When it all Goes Wrong
by Shepherd1969
Summary: Frank's worst nightmare comes true. Joe saves Frank's life. But will Joe survive? And can Frank survive if Joe doesn't?
1. In a Bad Spot

**OK, it's me - Shepherd. I am on an unscheduled trip and typed chaps 1-3 on my phone. Thanks to my daughter (Fluffykitty) for helping me learn how to post this. Still lost on posting, but Fluffykitty will see me through. :)**

Yes, you've heard from my mother, folks! The illusive Shepherd herself! :)

Frank's POV

A bullet misses Joe's head by an inch. I fire back and shove Joe hard to get him out of range. Joe lands hard on the warehouse's wood floor.

"Hey, I'm on your side, remember?" Joe says.

I do remember. That's part of the problem. We are outnumbered, outgunned and low on ammo. I have no idea who is shooting at us or how we are getting out of this alive.

Someone ran my car off the road. Joe and I found an abandoned warehouse. We're stuck behind a pile of wooden crates our enemies are blowing holes through and I can't come up with a plan.

"I've got a plan," Joe says as he rubs a bleeding spot on his leg from my shove.

"No. No plans."

Joe's plans are dangerous and unpredictable.

"Frank, they've got us trapped here. And I smell smoke."

Smoke! I smell it too. Whoever has us trapped is starting a fire to cut off our escape route.

"Cover me!" Joe shouts and runs by me.

I fire my gun and breathe a sigh of relief when Joe disappears behind a rusty metal press.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm responsible for Joe's impulsiveness. Does Joe act impulsively because he knows I can't give him permission to risk his life?

I fire a shot. The bullet hits a masked man in the shoulder. Another masked man drags the wounded one to safety. Are they brothers? Where is Joe? Why did he risk his life to get across the room?

My eyes scan the area where I last saw Joe. A rusty metal ladder mostly clings to the wall. It leads to a rickety platform 20 feet over my head.

I open fire as Joe slowly steps on the platform. Joe's strategy is excellent. He's behind enemy lines and can attack from overhead.

Joe shoots one masked man in the leg. I open fire and wing another. Things are looking up until I run out of ammo. I run out staring at the last masked guy. Hopefully my death will give Joe the time to escape.

Instead the masked guy looks at me, smiles and shoots Joe off the platform. I watch Joe crash to the floor. Is he still alive?

**Please review! :)**


	2. Frank's Nightmare

Pov Frank

I watched Joe fall twenty feet. He fell after the masked gunman shot him.

Joe landed on his stomach 10 feet away. Unfortunately Joe was only a foot away from the gunman.

The gunman smiled and took a step toward Joe. I knew the guy wanted me to react. I tried to keep still but when he took another step closer to my brother i found myself running. No way would I get there in time, but I'd rather die trying to save Joe than live without him.

I sprinted five feet when the gunman flipped Joe over on his back.

"One move and he's dead," he said and pointed his gun at my brother.

He smiled as he grabbed Joe's hair and hauled him to his feet. I dug my nails into my palms but remained still.

"Wake up Joseph or I'll kill your brother," the man said as he supported my brother.

Blood ran out of Joe's nose and mouth. I watched his blue eyes struggle to focus.

Blood ran from Joe's arm where the man's bullet had winged him.

The man aimed his gun at me. My last thought was I had failed Joe.

Joe's head leaned against the gunman's shoulder. He was barely alert. But for a second my eyes caught Joe's.

"Got a plan," Joe said.

Before I could move or reply, Joe shoved his body in front of the gun. As they fell to the floor, I heard a gunshot and saw Joe's body jerk.


	3. The Test

I saw Joe's body jerk when he threw himself in front of the gun. Joe had given me a chance, but what was the cost?

Was my brother already dead? The masked man tossed Joe off of him. The man aimed his gun at Joe just as my foot connected with the gun. The bullet went into a wall.

I had to get to Joe. No time to deal with this guy. Nobody gets between me and Joe. The man glanced away when the fire collapsed the ceiling behind us.

I hit the man with a spin kick. When he fell I grabbed him and punched him in the jaw. He fell out the warehouse window.

I had to get Joe out of here. The smoke blocked my vision. Where was Joe?

Looked like another part of the flaming ceiling was ready to collapse. I looked under it and saw Joe. I ran to him as the ceiling fell.

I grabbed Joe as the flames surrounded us. One chance. I ran through the flames to the open window. I almost made it.

The floor collapsed before I reached the window. But an explosion blew me and Joe out the window.

I prayed we would land in water. If not we were dead and Joe's death was not acceptable. I was the older brother. I had to protect him.


	4. In Too Deep

_Frank's POV_

Falling through the air with Joe, I hope we land in water. I try to position myself so whatever we land on I'll get the worst of it.

We land in Barmet Bay and hit the water hard. My arm feels like it is breaking but I won't release my hold on Joe.

No idea how deep we are underwater but my lungs need air. I kick my legs and pray we make the surface before i black out.

Spots dance in front of my eyes. I can't kick and keep my grip on Joe. I quit kicking and focus on keeping Joe close. If we die, we go together.

I am about to blackout when we surface. Joe coughs out water. I focus on treading water and keeping us above the waves.

Joe shivers next to me. I grab him tighter and start swimming for shore.

"Frank?" Joe says.

I grunt. That's all I can manage as I force my legs and right arm through the choppy water.

"I'm taking a sick day tomorrow," Joe says.

I half smile.

Rough feel of sand under my feet is an answer to a prayer. I pull Joe on the beach and collapse.

Good news is the freezing water slowed Joe's bleeding from the bullets.

Joe shivers as a cold wind sweeps by. Forgetting my own coldness, I put my arm over Joe and pull him close. If I can't get us help, I can at least keep him warm.

My brother is unconscious. He looks so young. I smile when I read Joe's torn, bloodstained t-shirt: My drinking team has a bowling problem.

He wears these shirts to the office to get on dad's nerves.

"Frank! Thank God!" Sam says.

My dad's partner calls in our location.

When I wake up I am in an ambulance.

"Joe?" I whisper.

"He took the first ambulance," Sam says. "They are operating as we speak."

"What happened?" I ask.

_Joe's POV_

Why does everything hurt? I grit my teeth against the pain. Did I get tackled on the football field? I hope we got a lot of yards cause think I am out for the rest of the game.

Where's Frank? I try to call him but my voice doesn't work. What would Frank do?

I imagine his voice saying, "Use your brains. Listen. Try to figure out where you are. Stop freaking out about not being able to move. Use it to your advantage."

I listen but everything seems far away. All I hear are beeps and voices.

Beeps. Maybe my snooze alarm? But that doesn't explain the pain or voices.

"Doctor, his blood pressure is bottoming out," a voice says. "Heart rate slowing. MRI of abdomen is ready."

"Good. I need to see how close the bullet is to his spleen. Give me his blood pressure every 30 seconds," a male voice says.

Bullet? Did Frank get shot? Where is he?

I claw my way back to awareness. A vision of me and Frank stuck in a dark building floats in my mind. Bullets are everywhere.

"Uh...Dr. Morgan," someone says by my ear. "I know this is impossible, but I think the patient is coming around. What do you want me to do?"

I've got to find Frank. I'm not losing him like I lost Iola. I force my eyes open. When I try to sit up pain shoots through my body. It brings tears to my eyes.

"Get him back under now!" someone shouts. "I can't," someone says by my ear. "Any more drugs could kill him."

"Where's Frank?" I ask in a voice that sounds surprisingly weak. "Want to see my brother now! You want to keep me quiet get him in here!"

"Get his brother suited up and in here!" a man in green scrubs shouts. A nurse runs out of the operating room. "Your brother is on his way. I need to keep operating."

I collapse back on the table. Getting up again seems impossible. Where is Frank? "Is my brother alive?" I ask.

"Look I can save your life or talk. Your choice," the surgeon says. "Can you keep quiet and still?"

"You've got five minutes," I say. Truthfully talking to this guy is taking all my strength. I lay down my head.

I keep my eyes on the door. Frank should be coming in any minute. A picture of four masked thugs shooting at Frank stays in my mind. No one could survive that. My brother died when I was supposed to have his back.

"Doctor, blood pressure and heart rate dropping," a nurse says. My vision starts to fade to black. I can't catch my breath. "Doc, we're losing him," someone says.

Someone brushes my hair off my forehead. The touch is oddly comforting. "Hey baby brother, you called," Frank says.

I crack open one eye. Frank is alive! "Scared you were dead," I whisper.

"No. You're the one in surgery, not me," Frank says. "So what's the problem?"

"I don't want to die with strangers," I whisper.


	5. The letter

**Dedicated to Fluffykitty 12 Because she is as strong as Frank and Joe and understands what they fight.**

Please review.

**Pov Sam Radley**

_(Detective partner of Fenton Hardy, Frank's dad. He is like a father to Frank and Joe)_

Joe has a five percent chance of surviving. I've had nightmares about this scenario. If Joe died, would Frank survive?

No. Frank would never forgive himself if Joe died. Somehow Joe had sensed the same thing.

Three months ago, Joe had walked in my office, shut the door and sat down. He slid an envelope across my desk. His hand shook as he pulled it back from the envelope. He left a sweaty handprint on my desk. I pretended not to notice. "When something happens to me, give this to Frank." Joe walked out of my office before I could say anything. I put the envelope in my wallet. I tried to forget about it. I've never told anyone about it...until now.

Frank slumped in a hard plastic chair. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. Frank needed his dad, but Fenton was barely functioning.

Fenton's face was deathly pale. Losing a son was his worst nightmare. He knew losing one son meant losing both. It's hard enough surviving the death of a partner. But when your partner is also your brother, how do stop the guilt from eating you alive? Fenton looked from Joe's hospital room to Frank. Both sons needed him. How could he choose between them?

"Why don't you see Joe?" I say. "I'll stay with Frank."

Fenton nodded and slowly walked down the hall. I've fought beside Fenton many times. But the only time I have ever seen fear in his eyes is when one of his sons was hurt.

I turned to Frank. He was shutting down. How far had he already retreated into his own world of guilt and blame? Frank was shutting down. I put my arm around Frank's shoulders. No response. "Frank?" I said. Nothing.

Like someone throwing a life preserver to a drowning man, I pressed Joe's letter into Frank's hands. "Joe wanted you to have this," I say. Frank's eyes focus when I mention Joe. He stares at his name written in Joe's messy scrawl. Joe has brought Frank back. But what happens if Joe dies?

**Pov Frank**

My hands shake as I unfold Joe's letter. How did it come to this? How did I let someone hurt Joe this bad?

_Frank,  
When Iola died, there were so many things I wanted to tell her. And my chance was gone. I promised that would never happen to us. Bro, you need to know this wasn't your fault._

Yeah, I know how your mind works. You've got a million reasons to blame yourself. You are replaying everything in your head and figuring what you could have done differently.

I know cuz I did the same thing when Iola died. Almost drove myself crazy. I'm asking you not to do that, for me.

Sometimes we have to make split second decisions. You let it go because you did the best you could. And Frank, you did the best you could.

Truth is, you already saved my life. When Iola died, I was in a dark place. I wouldn't have ended my life. But I did risky things. Things so risky I didn't know if I'd make it back alive. And you knew that.

_You saw it when nobody else would. Still remember how you dragged me to Dr. Welch for grief counseling. When I wouldn't get up that morning, you came in my bedroom and switched on the lights. "Ten minutes and we're on the road," you said. I pulled the sheets over my head and ignored you. At that point I just wanted the pain to end. Sleep helped except for the nightmares. Anyway you came back, pulled back the sheets and dumped a tray of ice cubes on me. You were the only one who treated me the same after Iola died. _

_I didn't say one word on the ride there or at the appointment or on the way home. You sat there and told Dr. Welch everything. And you guys came up with a plan to bring me back. I had to exercise to fight the depression, eat and see Dr. Welch. _

_You drove me to the gym after my appointment. I remember saying I wasn't getting out of the car. Figured it was safe cuz no ice cubes around. You glared at me. "Look, I know you are hurting. I can't even imagine how much. But we are not giving up. So suck it up, Buttercup." _

_Well, Buttercup your day has come. Dr. Welch knows if anything happens to me, you have my old appointment time. Sam will take you. I told him about the ice cube treatment so prepare yourself. _

_For exercise, I know you've been nagging me to run the Bayport Marathon with you forever. Somehow I got out of it. But Phil knows if anything happens to me, he is on deck as your new exercise buddy. He will drive you to the gym and workout or you guys can run to get ready for the marathon. _

_Chet is making sure you eat and taking you grocery shopping. And remember all those Wednesday mornings, I'd drag my tired self into the office. "You out partying?" you'd ask. Truth is, Tony and I volunteer in a program for high risk teens Tuesday nights. Guess who is filling my spot, Bbttercup? _

_I miss you. You were more than a brother, partner or best friend. Somehow you were my other half. I know you don't believe in God. I do. I have to because it's the only way I get a chance to apologize to Iola. I have to believe part of her survived and is in Heaven. _

_You are a logical guy. You need proof. All I know is this can't be the end. And God's love and grace is the only way I can explain having you for my brother, best friend and partner. I did nothing to deserve any of it._

This isn't goodbye. It's just a short time apart. If I have my way, I'm already watching you. Maybe you can feel me, maybe you can't, but I am there.

Joe

_P.S. In our line of work there are no guarantees. But I went out doing what I loved. No regrets. See you on the other side, Buttercup._

Someone touches my shoulder. For a moment, I think it's Joe. But then I see Dad. "Frank, you need to go say goodbye to Joe," Dad whispers.

**Note: Thanks to Carol J. Post who wrote Shattered Haven. She used the idea that God can send a someone into your life.**


	6. Recovery

To Fluffykitty 12. Thanks for helping w the end. And for endless patience teaching me how to get this off my phone n posted.

And thx to God

Pls review

Pov Frank

I push open the recovery room door. Joe lies still and pale. An image of my brother in an open coffin flashes through my mind. The beeping of the heart monitor calms me. Joe is still here. But for how long?

I have so much to tell Joe but I can't get a single word out. Will Joe ever open his blue eyes again? Will I be an only child in a few hours?

I hold Joe's letter in one hand. With my other hand I brush Joe's hair off his bruised forehead. His face, arms and chest are covered in cuts and bruises. How did I let this happen to Joe? I have no words.

A man in green scrubs walks in the room. I look at him. He pulls out a gun with a silencer.

"I'm here to finish what I started. My client is paying me to kill both of you," the thug says.

I stand up. No way is this guy getting near Joe. I take a step toward the guy.

"Who are you?" I ask. My goal is to keep him talking and make him forget about Joe. I take another step toward him.

"My name doesn't matter," he says and takes a step back. He aims his gun at Joe. I am helpless.

"Walk over to the chair or I will kill him," the man says.

I force myself to walk away from Joe. I have no choice. But I hate it.

"Very good. I couldn't believe you both survived," the man says. "Of course a five percent chance isn't really surviving."

"Why?" I ask.

"I have $50 million reasons. As soon as the newspapers report you dead, my money will go in a Swiss account."

"Who?" I ask as I try to stall for time.

"Your dad has made a lot of enemies. Pick one," the man says. He pulls Joe's hair back and wraps his arm around Joe's throat.

"Get your hands off him!" I shout.

"You are in no position to make demands," the thug says. He smiles as he tightens his grip around Joe's neck. Joe grimaces in pain. "You decide. Do I kill him first or you?"

Pov Joe

Pain. My head explodes with pain. Where am I?

"Get your hands off him!" Frank shouts.

He sounds angry. Beneath the anger I hear fear in Frank's voice. I struggle to open my eyes. Most of my view is blocked by a hand the guy holds over my mouth.

The guy holding me says something and tightens his grip around my throat. I can't breathe. He loosens his arm and says, "Do I kill him first or you?"

Not a choice I want Frank to make.

"Me," Frank says.

"Ok. I'll kill you first," the guy says.

I don't know where I am or what happened. But I do know one thing - no one hurts Frank as long as I'm breathing. Feet and arms won't move. I have double vision. How can I help Frank when I can't move?

"Goodbye Frank," the man says.

I am out of time. God, I need you. I open my mouth, slide my jaws over the guy's horizontal index finger, and bite.

I feel his skin between my jaws. He jerks his hand but I won't let go. Frank dives on the guy. They crash on the floor. Frank and the guy trade punches. I squint my eyes to focus. Where is the gun?

I see it on the floor. I roll out of bed and land on the gun. I fumble trying to make my hand close around the gun.

Frank punches the thug in the face. The guy collapses on the floor. Frank falls to his knees.

"You ok?" Frank asks as he collapses.

Frank's barely conscious. No way can I tie up the bad guy.

"I'll get backup," I whisper as the room starts to spin.

"How? You're in worse shape than me," Frank whispers.

"Got a plan," I say.

"No plans," Frank whispers.

"Trust me. I got this," I say. I aim the gun at the upper corner of the window with shades drawn. I I pull the trigger. The glass shatters.

Dad and Sam run in as my world fades to black.

Pov Frank

A week later, I found myself sharing a hospital room with Joe. I had a few broken ribs and a concussion. Dad and Sam hired a security firm to guard our room. They also tracked down who put out a contract on us. Dad flew halfway around the world to capture them while Sam stayed with us. Joe was out of danger but he still wasn't acting like himself. I was worried.

Sam walked in smiling.

"Your dad got his man," Sam said.

"He ok?" Joe mumbled.

"Not a scratch on him," Sam said.

"Nice of you to join us, Sleeping Beauty," I said.

"Not sleeping," Joe said. "Thinking. And don't call me Sleeping Beauty."

"Ok. Rottweiler, did you know you snore when you think?" I asked

"Rottweiler?" Sam asked

"Joe's nickname in kindergarten," I said.

"Kind of unusual nickname," Sam said.

I watch Joe's face turn red. This is going to be fun.

"Joe's an unusual guy. Want to hear the story?" I asked.

"No!" Joe said. "Sam doesn't have time."

"I'd love to hear it," Sam said and sat down.

"Had a bully in my class. Mike got held back a year so he was bigger than all the other first graders. Mike made my life miserable. When the teacher wasn't looking he'd kick me, trip me or knock my stuff on the floor. He said if I told anybody he would burn down my house with me in it."

"One day during recess, I made the mistake of being alone on the playground by the slide. Mike punched me and jumped on me. He had his fist back to punch me again when I heard those words I'll never forget. 'Get off my brother, you piece of dog poop!'"

"Crap," Joe said from his hospital bed.

"No, you said 'piece of dog poop,'"I said and smiled.

"I was five," Joe said.

"What happened to the piece of dog poop?" Sam asked.

"Joe ran like a torpedo and knocked Mike over," I said.

"How did Joe do that if he was smaller?" Sam asked.

"His elbow hit Mike's family jewels," I said.

Sam laughed out loud. Joe's cheeks got redder.

"When Mike went down, Joe jumped on him and bit his arm. Mike's screams got everybody's attention," I said.

Joe pulled the bed sheet over his face.

Sam laughed so hard, he couldn't catch his breath.

"Took two teachers to get Joe's teeth off Mike's arm," I said. "We got sent to the principal's office. Mike went to the nurse's office."

"Joe, there's nothing embarrassing about that story," Sam said.

"Wait for it," Joe's said from under the sheet.

"Joe heard the principal ate the kids who got sent to his office. He was so scared he hid under the principal's desk and peed himself," I said. "I don't think they ever got the stain out of the carpet. And that's why we call him the Rottweiler. Joe, you want to add anything?"

"You're a piece of dog poop," Joe muttered.

I smiled. My brother was back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the reviews n your patience. If you send a review, you might find yourself in the story.**

**Today's review character is Nurse Doyle. God bless, Shepherd**

Pov Frank

How could I oversleep today? Joe was finally getting out of the hospital. One month in the hospital was a new record for my brother. I spent the month at Joe's bedside, trying to distract him. Especially when his pain meds wore off and it wasn't time for the next dose.

The worst part was this was my fault. Joe got hurt when I should have had his back. The surgeon gave Joe a five percent chance of surviving. When Joe slept, I worked on my computer. Sleep didn't come easy to me. I hated seeing Joe in so much pain. He tried to hide it but I noticed his clenched fists under the thin hospital blanket.

My pain was emotional. Joe had almost died on my watch. What kind of partner was I? If Joe had died … I can't go there.

Did Joe hate me as much as I hated myself? Staying awake was easier than facing my nightmares.

I pulled my black BMW into traffic. A skateboarder rolled down the sidewalk. I pictured Joe doing tricks on his skateboard. My smile faded when I pictured Joe lying in his hospital bed. Until Joe had physical therapy even walking was difficult.

I pulled into the hospital parking lot twenty minutes later than usual. And that's with skipping my trip to the bank. The banking has to be done today unless I wanted to keep carrying a check for $50,000 in my wallet and have our business account overdrawn.

More guilt hit when I walked through the hospital lobby. My stomach clenched. Joe almost died here. I hated this place.

I smelled hospital food. Joe claimed the hospital cook was trying to give him food poisoning. Judging by the runny eggs and burnt toast, Joe might have been right.

I had too much nervous energy to wait for the elevator. I ran up four flights of stairs. A hungry Joe was not a happy Joe. I hoped he was behaving himself.

"I'm not eating it!" Joe shouted.

"You will or you won't be released," Nurse Roif said.

Nurse Roif was a cross between a drill sergeant and a pit bull. I put myself between Joe and the nurse. "I know how busy you are," I said. "How about I make sure he eats breakfast?"

"You have five minutes," Nurse Roif said before leaving.

One month hospitalized had pushed Joe past his limit. I placed a hand on Joe's shoulder and checked the clock. With thirty minutes until his next dose of pain meds, Joe was definitely uncomfortable.

I took Joe's breakfast out of my briefcase.

"Eat this," I said and handed Joe eggs and toast in a plastic container.

Joe inhaled the food. I wrapped the inedible hospital food in a napkin, stuck it in my briefcase and walked to the bathroom down the hall. I flushed Joe's hospital breakfast, just like I had for the past month.

Nurse Roif pushed a cart into the room. "He has to drink this before he's released." She put two pitchers full of water on Joe's bed table, smiled and left.

Mobility and eating were hard for Joe. He had clearance to start physical therapy tomorrow. "Witch," Joe muttered the door. "Yes, but she's the witch who is releasing you," I said and pulled a hand through my hair.

Joe's blue eyes filled with hopelessness. Technically this was my fault. If I hadn't overslept none of this would have happened. And if I had taken better care of Joe he wouldn't have been stuck here for a month.

Nurse Doyle, my favorite nurse, entered with Joe's pain medicine. Joe swallowed the pills without protest, so I knew he was hurting.

"Roif's on the warpath this morning," Nurse Doyle said.

"What's Nurse Roid's problem?" Joe asked.

"Rumor is her house is built on an ancient Indian burial ground," she said.

Joe cracked a smile. For a minute everything was normal. Joe wasn't badly injured because of me.

"Since she is the head nurse, you have to dispose – I mean drink - this before you're released," Nurse Doyle said with a smile.

Nurse Roif walked in the room. "Don't you have patients to check on? If you have too much downtime I can assign you more duties."

Nurse Doyle left.

"You have ten minutes to drink this,"Nurse Roif said. "Don't dump it out the window. I always check." She left.

"No way can I drink this," Joe muttered. "I'm never leaving this place. Probably die of old age here."

The defeated look in Joe's eyes killed me. The hospital didn't have a room with a bathroom free. No sink or drain in sight. I couldn't even get the pitchers to the hall bathroom without Nurse Roif spotting me.

Eight minutes later Nurse Roif entered. When she saw the empty pitchers her eyes almost popped out. She looked out the window, but didn't find anything. I handed her Joe's signed release form and pushed his wheelchair into the hall.

"Do you need to visit the restroom before you leave?" Nurse Roif asked.

"Sure," I said.

"No, we're good," Joe said.

"I'll walk you out," Nurse Roif said.

Five long minutes later Joe got into my new car.

"Don't forget this," Nurse Roif said and put a folded walker on top of Joe .

Before Joe could react, I slammed his car door. We had to get out of here. Now.

I drove 30 mph in the hospital zone, just like the signs said. But I wanted to floor it. "I can't believe we got away with it!" Joe said.

"We? I drank all the water," I reminded Joe as I drove over the Barmet Bay Bridge.

"I was with you in spirit," Joe said. He rolled down his window and tossed the folded up walker out. It landed in the bay and sunk. I hid a smile. I had to keep Joe's spirit intact without damaging him physically. I was walking a tightrope without a net.

"So, another black BMW," Joe said.

"Kind of busy at the hospital so I kept car shopping simple," I said. "Next topic."

"Look at all that water," Joe said. "Sloshing around."

"Shut up," I mumbled as two pitchers full of water jostled in my bladder.

"Look someone has a sprinkler watering their lawn," Joe said and pointed.

I grit my teeth. I had to find a bathroom soon. No, immediately.

"Hey, can we stop and get a Big Gulp with extra ice?" Joe asked.

"I can kill you and make it look like an accident," I said. "Probably get off on justifiable homicide."

"Hey Frank, how much water do you think the Bayport Water Tower holds?" Joe asked and pointed at the tower.

I wanted to kill Joe, but I had missed my brother. In the hospital, Joe's fight with pain left a shadow of himself. I was scared Joe would never joke with me again.

Bayport Bank was straight ahead. I could do my banking and find a bathroom. I pulled into a parking place. Joe opened his car door.

"You need to rest your leg," I said.

"I'll hop," Joe said.

I gave up and unlocked the car trunk. I pulled a set of Joe's old crutches from the trunk. Joe was about to do a face plant on the sidewalk when I caught him and dropped the crutches.

"Dude, I haven't seen these since high school," Joe said.

"They were in mom and dad's attic buried under a mound of junk," I said and handed Joe the crutches.

I watched him take an unsteady step with the crutches. Joe was usually good on crutches, but a month in the hospital took a lot out of him. I grabbed him as he wobbled.

"I can do it," Joe said.

"Of course you can," I said as I put my arm around Joe and walked to the bank.

Slowly we crutched toward the door. I held it open while Joe wobbled inside. I spotted the bank president's office.

"Frank, it's good to see you," Mr. Roberts said as he showed us into his office.

I helped Joe into a leather chair. I put his crutches on the floor. Finally I collapsed into a second leather chair.

"You have a chia pet?" Joe asked.

"Yes, my mother in law gave it to me," Mr. Roberts said.

"Figures," Joe muttered.

I stared at the chia Abraham Lincoln with green hair. Joe hated Chia Pets. They always ended up broken when he was around. I shot Joe a death glare.

"Do you have to water it a lot?" Joe asked and smiled.

I would kill him later. Slowly. Painfully.

"Mr. Roberts, could you deposit this in agency's business account?" I asked as I put the $50,000 check on his desk. "And would you direct me to the bank's bathroom?"

"0f course," he said. "You can use my private bathroom."

I shot Joe one last glare. I looked from Joe to the Chia Pet. Joe smiled.

"I told him to go before we left," Joe said as I closed the door. Minutes later I felt much better. I heard gunfire and shouting when I was drying my hands.

I opened the door. A man wearing a clown mask pointed a gun at Joe and Mr. Roberts. I knew the game. The thug wanted someone weak for a hostage. He needed someone pregnant, old or… on crutches.

I saw the gleam in the man's eyes as he zoomed in on the crutches I left by Joe's chair.

The thug and I ran to Joe from opposite sides of the room. Joe tried to stand. When he put his weight on his injured leg, Joe fell.

The clown reached Joe seconds before me. He grabbed Joe by the hair and pulled him to his feet. The clown slipped his arm around Joe's neck and pointed a gun at Joe.

"Why do you care?" the clown asked me.

I kept quiet. Telling this guy Joe was my brother would be signing Joe's death warrant.

The clown shot a bullet in the wall an inch from Mr. Robert's head.

"They're brothers," Mr. Roberts said as sweat rolled down his forehead.

The clown tightened his arm around Joe's neck, looked at me and smiled.


	8. The Reckoning

**As Fluffy Kitty says sorry for the long wait, but you can't have quality and quantity. :)**

**Chapter 8**

**Pov Frank**

"Brothers?" the thug asks and laughs. "You must not like him. He's half dead."

He points his gun at Joe's head and tightens his arm around my brother's neck.

Inside I am dying, but outside I force myself to look calm. I can't let this guy get under my skin. Joe's life depends on me keeping control. Dad trained me better than this. I stuff all my emotions down and give the guy a cold stare.

"Were you with him when he got hurt?" the thug asks.

I nod once.

"Yeah, you want him out of the way," he says. "I can do that for you."

The guy is playing mind games with me. I force myself not to react. I stare at him.

"If you care about him, how come he's half dead?" he asks. "Answer me or I'll kill him."

"I messed up," I whisper.

"No you didn't…" Joe says.

He stops talking when the thug tightens his arm around Joe's neck. Joe's face turns red. He is suffocating and I can't stop it.

"Maybe you don't deserve to have a brother," the thug says.

I am frozen. Joe is suffering in front of me. I can't help him. I have no idea how to save Joe.

Pov Joe

"I'll kill you," the gunman whispers. "Then I'll kill your brother."

I can't breathe. Black spots dance in front of my eyes. I hate you, God. You let somebody almost kill me. My body is a mess. Not sure I'll ever be in good enough shape to be Frank's partner. But I'm not letting anyone hurt Frank.

My hand closes over something behind me. I grab it. With the last of my strength, I crash the object into the guy's head. The gun fires. I fall to the floor.

**Pov Frank**

When the gun goes off, Joe falls to the floor. His attacker lands on top of Joe.

Is Joe shot? I grab the thug's arm and pull him off Joe. I almost lose my grip. Joe's in no shape to fight this guy. I grip the guy's arm and shove it back until I feel the bone break. The guy shouts in pain just as the cops arrive. I throw the guy to the floor.

Joe lies in a bloody heap. His neck is red and bruised. I look him over. No blood.

"Where's the bullet?" I ask.

"Roberts' paneling took one for the team," Joe whispers. He looks at a piece of paneling lying on the carpet.

" What happened?" Con Riley, a friend on the police force, asks.

"Not sure, the guy had a gun on Joe when I came out of the bathroom," I say.

"He yelled something about the bank foreclosing on his home," Joe whispers and winces as he sits up.

"Joe hit him with something…," I say.

I see the cracked Abraham Lincoln Chia Pet in pieces on the floor.

"My bad,"Joe whispers and smiles.

Almost like old times until Joe turns deathly pale. I look at Robert's clock. We missed Joe's pain pills. How did I mess this up so bad? First I almost let Joe get killed and now he's in pain because of me.

I grab the pills out of my pocket. Joe swallows them, lies on the floor and closes his eyes.

"Do you want me to call an ambulance?" Con asks.

"Going home," Joe whispers and forces open his blue eyes.

"You need to get checked over," I say.

Joe gives mecthe look. The one that makes me throw caution to the wind and do whatever he wants. I realize the thought of going home is what has kept Joe fighting for the last month.

"Okay, we'll go home," I say.

"Uh Frank, how you gonna explain this to your dad?" Con asks.

Good question. Dad has gone into grizzly bear mode ever since Joe got hurt.

"No idea," I say. I wrap my arm around Joe's waist and put his arm over my shoulder. "Tell him we'll be at my condo."

"My place," Joe whispers.

I can tell from his stiff movements that Joe is hurting.

"Fine, tell Dad we'll be at Joe's," I say.

"Is it still standing?" Con asks and laughs.

He opens the passenger door of my car. I help Joe in and fasten his seatbelt.

Joe bought a rundown beach cottage six months ago. Dad called it the worst use of money he had ever seen. He and Joe weren't speaking when Joe got hurt. I think Dad feels guilty.

When I park by the cottage, Joe seems at peace. Like he's somewhere his physical pain can't find him at least for a moment.

I shake my head when I see the sagging cottage roof.

I still can't believe Joe bought a place without a garage. He spent months restoring his black Mustang. Now the car sits out in the salty sea air covered with a tarp.

I half-carry half-drag Joe up the steps to the front porch. The bottom step cracks in two when I step on it.

"Been meaning to fix that," Joe whispers.

"Uh-huh," I say.

We have an unspoken agreement- I don't ask Joe about his house and he doesn't ask me about Callie, my old girlfriend.

Joe unlocks the front door. I help him to the sofa. While I grab a pillow and blanket, I remember Dad calls this place a deathtrap. Probably because the wiring is so old Joe can't install a home security system. But maybe the house will defend itself – like how the front porch step almost killed me.

Joe looks so young lying there in his Avengers 13) band t-shirt. Joe loves their music. It gives me a headache.

I cover Joe with a blanket and wait for the pain meds to kick in. I need to distract Joe. Get his mind off the pain.

"I still remember the look on Dad's face when you told us you bought this place," I say and smile.

"Thought he was gonna have a heart attack," Joe mumbles and smiles.

"Dad almost killed you," I say. "Good thing you're good with God."

Joe's smile vanishes. He knows I don't believe, but I like that Joe's faith comforts him. But the look on Joe's face makes me uneasy.

"You are still a Christian, right?" I ask.

"Yeah, but I'm not talking to God right now," Joe says.

"Okaaay. So let me get this straight, you are giving God the silent treatment?" I ask and smile. "Why are you mad?"

"Next topic," Joe says through teeth clenched in pain.

"Why did you buy this place?" I ask.

I figure by the time Joe figures out how to avoid answering , he will be asleep. I can't figure what Joe wants with all this old stuff. He hates fixing houses as much as he loves working on cars. I look around. The walls are cracked which means the foundation needs work. The roof sags, there is no insulation and the plumbing is on borrowed time.

Joe ignores me and lays on the couch. His relaxed muscles tell me the pain meds have finally kicked in. I brush his hair off his forehead and realize he is almost asleep.

Dad walks in the back door. Joe doesn't even know he is there.

"How is he?" Dad asks.

"Almost asleep," I answer.

Dad frowns as he looks at the leaking faucet. "This whole house should have been condemned or bulldozed. Joe doesn't have the time or patience to renovate this house. He's never been about all this old stuff."

Dad is right. The kitchen floor has an alarming downhill slope. The original appliances are from the 1950 and I doubt any work.

"I still remember when Joe told you he bought this place," I say and smile. "You told him to torch it."

"I still think we should," Dad says. "What if the place collapses on him?"

I open a kitchen cupboard to get a glass. The wooden door comes off and crashes to the floor.

"Frank! You ok?" Joe calls from the living room couch.

"Never better," I say and walk to Joe. I put my hand on his shoulder.

Joe has never told anyone why he bought this place. Even though he has been teased without mercy by everyone

"She asked me to marry her on this beach," Joe whispers.

"Who?" I ask.

Dad holds a glass of water in his hands.

"Iola," Joe whispers.

Dad drops the glass. It shatters on the floor.

Iola was Joe's girlfriend in high school. She died when our car exploded. Someone wanted to kill Dad, instead Iola died.

The pain pills have worked their magic. Joe is so relaxed he didn't even open his eyes when Dad dropped the glass.

"Gonna live here after the wedding," Joe whispers. "Add on a couple bedrooms for our kids. Play with them on the beach. We were gonna sit on the deck every night, hold hands and watch the sunset."

Silence. I have no idea what to say. How do I comfort Joe?

"House is all I have left of her ," Joe whispers. "Watch sunsets and pretend she is still alive."

"Promise?" Joe asks.

"Anything," I say and put my hand on Joe's shoulder.

"Don't tell Dad. Don't want him to feel bad," Joe whispers before falling asleep.

Dad stares at us. The color drains from his face. He runs out of the room. The back door slams. Dad is gone.


	9. Behind the Scenes

**A big thanks to Red and Phoenix. Two of my favorite writers from the Hardy Detective Agency. I got so much from reading their stories. Especially in Vanished, when Frank tells his brother he needs him. I did that too – sorry Red. No reviewer names included in this one, just wanted to finally get it out. God Bless**

**End of Chap 8 (to bring you up to speed)**

**POV Frank (flashback)**

"She asked me to marry her on this beach," Joe whispers with his eyes closed.

"Who?" I ask.

Dad holds a glass of water in his hands.

"Iola," Joe whispers.

Dad drops the glass. It shatters on the floor.

Iola was Joe's girlfriend in high school. She died when our car exploded. Someone wanted to kill Dad, instead Iola died.

The pain pills have worked their magic. Joe is so relaxed he didn't even open his eyes when Dad dropped the glass.

"Gonna live here after the wedding," Joe whispers. "Add on a couple bedrooms for the kids. Play with them on the beach. We were gonna sit on the deck every night, hold hands and watch the sunset."

Silence. I have no idea what to say. How do I comfort Joe?

"House is all I have left of her," Joe whispers. "Watch sunsets and pretend she is still alive. Promise?" Joe asks.

"Anything," I say and put my hand on Joe's shoulder.

"Don't tell Dad. Don't want him to feel bad," Joe whispers before falling asleep.

Dad stares at us. The color drains from his face. He runs out of the room. The back door slams. Dad is gone.

**(end flashback)**  
**Chapter 9**  
**Pov Frank**

Joe sleeps on the couch.

I need to check on Dad, I say and brush Joe's blond hair off his forehead. I smile. They call me the logical one. Yet here I am getting my sleeping brother's permission to leave.

Dad paces on the sand beach.

"I've been on Joe for months!" Dad yells. "Told him if he bought this place he was on his own."

"I stood by while everybody made jokes about this place too," I say and put my hand on Dad's shoulder. "We had no idea Iola was the reason Joe bought this place."

"I'm his father! It's my job to know!" Dad shouts and pushes my hand off his shoulder.

Dad's voice drops to a whisper. "Joe came to me the day after the Wayman kidnapping, " Dad says. "Joe said he wanted to buy this place. I wasn't supportive."

I swallow hard. Something bad happened on the Wayman case. No idea what went down. Dad and Sam worked the case alone. And they never talk about it.

"I almost let the kidnapper get away," Dad whispers. "He ran and I couldn't catch him. I put on a burst of speed, jumped and made a lucky tackle. Harrison, one of the rookie cops, said maybe I needed to retire."

I clench my fists thinking I'd like five minutes in a dark alley with Harrison.

"I woke up the next morning feeling old and sore," Dad whispers. "I was loaded for bear when Joe walked in."

I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Frank, I read Joe the riot act. Told him he was the weakest link at our agency. I said Joe didn't have time to learn to be a detective and fix up this house. If he wasn't one hundred percent I didn't want him at the agency. I'd been riding him the past two months about being good enough."

My anger surprises me. I tackle Dad in the sand. I land a solid right hook to his face.

I feel disgusted with myself. Gritting my teeth, I get up and face the ocean. I take some deep breaths and force myself to gain control.

When I turn around, Dad is slowly getting to his feet. Blood drips from his nose.

"I take it Joe didn't say anything to you," Dad says.

"He never does," I say in a cold voice. "Just like last year when Callie got engaged and I shut everybody out. Joe never ratted on me to you. He just put up with the abuse."

The waves crash.

"Joe tried to kill himself in the hospital when he was blind. He was scared I would shut him out again," I whisper.

"I didn't know," Dad says.

"He didn't want you to," I say. "He thinks you and I are perfect."

The irony is Dad and I have never been farther from perfect. I shut down all my emotions to keep from hitting Dad. I have to be strong for Joe.

"Stay away from Joe and me," I growl. I walk to the cottage without looking back.

Dad's car engine roars to life. I hear his tires skid as he turns on the road.

I grab my cell phone and hit speed dial number three.

"Radley," a brisk voice answers. I hear romantic music in the background. "This better be important."

I need you to find Dad.

"I'd like to wrap my hands around that rookie cop's neck," Sam growls.

The romantic music ends abruptly.

"He was at Joe's cottage." Part of me wants to tell Sam why Joe bought this falling down beach house. But I don't want to betray Joe's trust…again. "Things got heated," I say.

"You sure he doesn't need to see you instead of me?" Sam asks.

"I'm staying with Joe."

"Ok. I'll find Fenton. We're supposed to have a windstorm tonight. You make sure Joe's place doesn't blow down."

"Sam, I want you to put out the word anybody makes fun of Joe's place they answer to me."

"Okaaaay. I'm going to find Fenton and find out why everybody is acting nuts," Sam says and disconnects.

I walk back thinking how Dad disappeared after Iola's death. He was so busy helping other people he forgot to help us.

No idea how to fix my family. Maybe it can't be fixed.

Joe lies asleep on the couch. I push his hair off his forehead.

I sit next to Joe and carefully wrap my arms around him. Joe thought about killing himself after Iola died and again when he was blind. What if I'd lost him? I hold Joe tighter. Feeling his chest rise and fall reassures me.

Everyone thinks I am smart. But the scary truth is I have no idea what to do.

My brother buries his guilt, but it's always there. Like a shark swimming beneath what looks like a calm sea.

I swallow hard when I think about all the jokes people made about this place. Why didn't I stick up for Joe? I laughed along with everybody else. What kind of brother am I?  
Joe mumbles something. I lean closer.

"Not a hundred percent", Joe whispers.

I will kill Dad.

"Here's the thing. Nobody's one hundred percent," I say quietly.

I keep talking. Joe relaxes in my arms.

No wonder Joe isn't on speaking terms with God. How can he imagine a Father in Heaven who loves him unconditionally, when his earthly father put so much pressure on him?

After Iola died, I worried Joe would kill himself to escape the guilt. I wrap my arms around him tighter. And I fall asleep.

I wake up as the sun shines in the window. My neck hurts. I untangle myself from Joe and lay him gently on the couch.

Since Joe is still out I grab a five minute shower in his claw foot bathtub with a shower curtain. There is no hot water. There's barely any water. How does Joe live like this? I shave while looking in a cracked mirror.

I pull on black jeans and a black polo shirt. Just as I finish brushing my teeth, my cell rings.

"Frank, it's Sam."

"How's Dad?" I ask.

"Not good. He broke up a biker riot at the Watering Hole. He put 15 bikers in the hospital and called 911. I'm at the ER. He's got four broken ribs."

"Thanks for finding him," I say and run my fingers through my hair.

"He needs to see Joe," Sam says.

"Not today."

"Frank, the regret and guilt are eating your dad alive."

"Joe had a rough night."

"So did your Dad," Sam says.

"Look Sam, you take care of your partner and I'll take care of mine."

"I am. We'll be there in an hour."

Sam disconnects before I can argue.

One hour. Joe hates being fussed over. So I give him a sponge bath with the warmest water I can get out of the faucet. Every rib is visible when I pull up his shirt. Joe lost too much weight at the hospital. I've got to get him to eat more. I wash his hair and shave him.

My gut tells me Joe needs to be left alone to heal. Not endure another meeting with Dad. Maybe I can Joe out of here before Dad and Sam show up?

"Morning, Sleepy Beauty," I say.

"Weird dream," Joe mutters and snuggles deeper into his comforter.

Was he dreaming about Iola's death?

"Some guy was pointing a gun at you. You walked out with your hands up. I was too far away to do anything. All I could do was watch…just like when Iola died, "Joe says in a shaky voice.

"Can't believe you remember that," I mutter.

"Did he shoot you?" Joe asks.

"No, he smiled at me and shot you. You fell off a catwalk. That's why you spent so much time in the hospital. I was out of ammo. Figured if I distracted the gunman you could get away."

"Frank, you almost got killed when I was your partner and I was 100 percent. Look at me now. I'm a mess. Dad always says you don't work unless you are 100 percent."

"Joe, nobody is one hundred percent. We just do our best."

"What if my best isn't good enough?" Joe asks. "My best wasn't enough to save Iola."

"No one could have saved Iola," I say and rub Joe's shoulder.

Joe closes his eyes. If possible, he's even paler than when he woke up.

He pushes himself off the couch and wavers. I grab his arm.

"Deck," Joe whispers.

I help him walk to the worn wooden deck overlooking the beach.

"My favorite place," Joe says. He sits in the old wooden swing. "I always feel Iola out here. Some nights when I can't sleep, I drag a blanket out here and sleep under the stars."

Joe needs time alone. I need to get him breakfast. Ten minutes later, I'm back with a plate of toast and orange juice. Joe looks more relaxed than he has in months. This deck is definitely going to play an important part in Joe's recovery.

I set the food by the swing. Getting Joe to eat has been impossible.

"Joe, imagine if things had been reversed," I say. "If you had died in the car bombing, would you want Iola to spend the rest of her life blaming herself?"

"No! I'd want her to get over me and be happy," Joe says. He grabs a piece of toast and absentmindedly takes a bite.

"Maybe, for Iola, you could try to go easier on yourself. Stop hurting the person she loved the most," I say.

"Never thought of it like that," Joe says.

Joe is quiet. He takes another bite of toast. I wait…hoping he'll let me into his thoughts.

"Sometimes I think God hates me," Joe whispers. "Why else is Iola dead? I never loved anybody the way I loved her. Gonna get married and live here. Have a couple kids."

"Joe, God doesn't hate you. He loves everybody. But He gave us free will. Meaning bad people can do bad things. And you're Fenton Hardy's son. You were born with a target on your back," I say and rub Joe's back.

"Scared I won't recover," Joe whispers. "Won't be good enough to be your partner."

"You're the only person I work with," I say. "You're stuck with me. So suck it up, buttercup."

Joe looks away. Something else is bothering him.

"Feel like I'm falling into this dark hole," Joe whispers. "I can't escape. When I felt this way after Iola died, I'd go for a run. I got my endorphins going and felt better. Now my leg is a mess. What if I'm stuck in this dark hole forever?"

"I won't let that happen," I say and put my hand on Joe's shoulder.

"I don't know if I believe in God anymore. Too much stuff has happened. And if I don't believe…" Joe's voice drops to a whisper. "I won't see Iola again. Ever."

"Everybody has doubts, Joe," I say.

"You don't. You're an atheist."

"What makes you think sometimes I don't hope a loving, fatherly figure is looking out for us?" I ask.

"Do you trust me?" I ask.

Joe nods.

"How about giving me some time to figure this out?" I ask. Joe closes his eyes. I boot up my computer.

While Joe sleeps, I type.

_Dear Dr. Welch,_  
_Thanks for counseling Joe after Iola's death. Joe is going through a rough time. What is the first available appt you have open? Thanks. fhardy _

_Dear Dr. Perroti,_  
_Just wondering what kinds of exercise is allowed/prohibited while Joe recovers? Please respond asap. Thanks. fhardy _

_Dear Father Art,_  
_I need to counsel my brother about some religious matters. Since his mobility is limited due to a recent injury can you suggest some books or CDs re: doubting your faith. Thanks. fhardy _

I take a breather and google security system specs. I have to make this cottage a safe place. Updating the wiring and installing a security system should have happened yesterday.

I hear a car engine. I assume it's Sam and Dad until I look up. Someone points a machine gun out of the passenger side window.

Seconds before a shower of bullets hits the cottage, I tackle Joe. My momentum knocks Joe out of the swing. I land on top of Joe. The heavy wooden swing lands on top of us. I push the swing off us and drag Joe behind a cement planter on the deck. Joe looks dazed. Blood covers the blond hair above his right eye. I put my clip into my gun. I fire hoping to buy us some time. We are outgunned and out of luck.


	10. Homeless

**Chap 10**

**Dedicated to God and Fluffy Kitty (thanks for posting)**

**Pov Frank**

Bullets hit the ground around me as I pull Joe behind a cement planter.

Machine gun fire rips into the wooden cottage inches above me and Joe.

Joe groans. Blood covers his blonde hair and right eye.

Before I can examine him, more bullets hit the house. Our attackers are moving in.

Desperate to defend us, I fire my last three bullets. We are now sitting ducks.

A whirlpool of dark memories, fear and panic drag me under. How can I protect Joe when I am out of ammo?

"Frank?" Joe's voice drags me back to the present.

"Right here," I say.

I put myself between Joe and the guys trying to kill us.

The sun glints off the gold cross Joe wears around his neck. Iola's last gift to Joe before she died.

"Iola, you know I don't believe in God, but if you could just save Joe," I mutter.

A huge guy in kevlar bullet proof vest steps out. He points a gun at me.

"Time to say goodbye," the guy growls and points a gun at my head.

"I don't think so," Dad says in a cold voice from somewhere behind me.

"Drop it or I kill them," machine gun guy says.

"I am aiming for your seventh vertebrae. If I pull the trigger, you'll spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair," Dad says.

"I kill the first one in five seconds unless you drop the gun," the guy says and sticks his gun closer to me.

"Now my gun is pointed at your first vertebrae. Means you won't be able to move your arms or legs," Dad says.

I hear two guns fire. Am I dead?

Machine gun guy is on the ground. Sam has his gun.

A bullet is buried in the wood siding half an inch to the left of my head. I slump to the ground.

"Easy Frank. This guy was about to pull the trigger on you," Sam says as he cuffs the man's hands behind his back. "I knocked out and cuffed the other guy."

I hear sirens as Dad holsters his gun.

"Are you two ok?" Dad asks.

"Hey, little help here," Joe says from underneath me.

With Dad's help, I roll to one side.

"Joe! What happened!" Dad says as he sees blood in Joe's hair.

A medic examines Joe.

"A piece of wood from the house hit him," I explain.

"Might want to get him checked over," the medic says.

"No," Joe says. "Wanna stay home."

"Look Bud, your house is history," the medic says. "Looks like a teardown to me."

I glare at the medic.

Joe struggles to sit up. I see the shock and pain in his blue eyes.

Wood shards from the house litter the sand. Joe's cottage has hundreds of bullet holes. My BMW is also collateral damage. Miraculously Joe's black Mustang doesn't have a scratch.

How did I let this happen? The one place Joe could relax and remember Iola is destroyed.

"Gone," Joe whispers.

I have no words to fix this.

"Joe, look at me," Dad says. He puts his hand on Joe's shoulder.

"Do you trust me?" Dad asks.

Joe nods yes.

"I'll take care of this," Dad says.

Four hours later Joe has had a tetanus shot, fifteen stitches and the worst hospital haircut of his life.

I drive a quiet Joe back to my condo. As we get out of Joe's Mustang, Mr. Green, the president of the Homeowners Association, walks up.

"Franklin, I trust you have an approved guest request," Green says.

"I can stay at a hotel," Joe mumbles.

"Not happening," I say. "Everything is taken care of."

"Are you sure?" Green asks.

"Positive," I say and shut the front door of my condo before he can step inside.

"Look Frank, just drop me off at the Holiday Inn," Joe says.

"No," I say. "While we were at the hospital I called Victoria in the front office. She owes me a favor. She filed and approved the paperwork. How about I help you upstairs to my spare bedroom?"

"Ok if I just crash on your couch?" Joe asks and falls on a cushion.

"Sure, I'll open up a can of soup for lunch."

Five minutes later I return with a tray of soup and crackers. Joe is asleep. I don't have the heart to wake him.

My cell phone goes off.

"Hardy," I growl.

"Frank, have you and Joe worked on any cases I don't know about?" Dad asks.

"Not lately. Why?"

"I can't find a connection between the guys who shot up Joe's house and any of our old cases. No idea what these guys have against us."

Dad gives me their names: Leonard Mulis and Ted Staris.

I hang up, activate my condo's security system and fire up my computer.

Two hours later I've learned Leo and Ted are international assassins. I hack into their computer accounts but everything is encrypted. I activate a program to decode their messages. It's highly accurate but will take hours.

I walk to the kitchen to grab more coffee. I need the caffeine.

I trip over Joe's bag. His Bible falls out and lands on Psalm 33.

Joe has highlighted a few verses.

"No king is saved by the size of his army; no warrior escapes by his great strength; the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him. "

I remember my overwhelming fear when I couldn't protect Joe from the machine gun guys. . . and my whispered prayer.

Did it make a difference?

**Pov Joe**

A woman's scream wakes me. Why am I sleeping on Frank's couch?

The woman screams again. I shove my feet in my sneakers and open Frank's front door.

A tattooed man pulls a gray haired women out of her Mercedes. I try to run, but my weak leg slows me down. Feels like I'm moving in slow motion.

By the time I reach them, the old woman is lying in a heap on the road.

The guy revs the Mercedes. He aims the car at the lady. Only one option and it's going to hurt.

I grit my teeth to brace for the pain. I run and tackle the lady. As I hit the pavement I roll both of us out of the way of the car.

Pain shoots through my body. The car misses us by inches.

Tires screech as the car leaves dark skid marks on the road..

I focus on the car's license plate ASD 137.

An elderly woman runs up. "I called 911."

"Thanks," I say.

The older woman on the sidewalk gasps and holds her chest.

"Bernice, is it your heart?" the woman asks.

Bernice nods.

"Her medicine is in her purse," the woman says.

I scan the ground – no purse. It must be in the stolen car.

A vintage motorcycle is parked in the lot.

I push down with my good leg. The bike starts. I wobble down the road as I try to keep my balance. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. I haven't ridden for months.

But Bernice needs her heart medicine. I have no choice. I just hope my battered body holds up until I catch this guy.

I squeal around the corner with a prayer on my lips and fighting to keep the motorcycle under control.


	11. Crashing

Chap 11

Thanks for the reviews. Thanks to God and Fluffykitty12 for posting. Quicker but shorter.

**POV Joe**

I lean into a curve with the motorcycle. Twenty feet ahead the stolen Mercedes squeals down the road.

Whatever I'm doing has to be quick. My body is tiring fast.

No plan. Frank would have my head. And I broke Dad's cardinal rule of always having backup.

If I'm lucky this mission will kill me before Dad or Frank do.

The Mercedes speeds up. I rev the motor and catch up. I don't have time for this – got to get Bernice's heart medicine.

I up the motorcycle's speed and shakily pass the Mercedes. My only chance is to nail this guy before he gets off the condo property.

I race to the guard booth with its wooden arm down to keep people out.

Inside the booth a gray haired guy sits playing Solitaire.

"Get out!" I shout.

Cards fall to the ground as the grabs his walker. No way this guy is going to make it out in time.

And Dad and Frank complained about my beach house not being secure.

I squeal the tires as I do a 180 turn.

The Mercedes driver smiles, points at the guard booth and guns the motor. He stops 20 feet from the guard booth.

The driver sticks a gun out the window and blows out my front tire.

The verse, "God is our refuge and strength" runs through my mind. I rev the motor, lift the handlebars and pull the motorcycle into a shaky wheelie.

**POV Frank**

A woman screams. Somehow I know Joe is involved.

I run outside.

"Help!" Eleanor says. "Someone carjacked Bernice! Her heart medicine is in her car!"

Bernice lies in a crumpled heap, clutching her chest and struggling to breathe.

I hear sirens. Help is on the way. Where is Joe?

"Where's my motorcycle!" Mr. Greene shouts. "I only left the keys in it for a minute!"

I get in Joe's black Mustang. Before I speed away, Mr. Greene opens the passenger door and jumps in. No time to argue with him. I have to help Joe.

"My motorcycle is worth $50,000! I spent the last year restoring it!"Greene shouts.

I grit my teeth and concentrate on finding Joe.

"I'm entering it in an international competition next month!" Greene shouts.

Suddenly the exhaustion and worry catch up with me. I snap as my eyes fail to see Joe anywhere.

"If anything happens to my brother you won't be able to find a hole deep enough to hide in," I growl.

"What?" Greene says.

"I'm sure Joe is being careful with your motorcycle," I say.

I turn around a bend in the road. Joe is on the motorcycle in front of the guard booth. The Mercedes driver shoots out the front tire of Joe's bike. Joe revs the motor, pulls it into a shaky wheelie and rides toward the Mercedes.

I step on the gas, hit the Mercedes bumper and force it off the road. The Mercedes misses Joe by inches. The stolen car plows through the "Welcome to Fox Run" billboard and lands in a ditch.

POV Joe

I breathe a sigh of relief when the Mercedes crashes. Until I remember I've got to land a wheelie on a motorcycle with one wheel.

I try to slow the bike gradually, but my arms are too weak. The front wheel rim touches the road. The motorcycle goes out of control. I jump off seconds before the motorcycle crashes into the Mercedes.

I land in a heap on the grass and gravel. Everything hurts. A large black purse is inches from my head. I put my arm inside and feel a pill bottle.

Bertha's heart medicine!

Someone tackles me. I groan as pain erupts all over my body. I want to get this guy off me, but I am too weak. Another punch hits my stomach. I pray for help as I cling to consciousness.


	12. Slip and Fall You Know Who to Call

**Chap 12**

**Thnx to Fluffykitty12 for helping with the radio slogans. Joe and I enjoyed them.**

**Sorry chapters take so long. I am a perfectionist procrastinator. Like Frank I've got learn God works it out.**

**Pov Frank**

I watch in horror as Joe and the motorcycle end up in the ditch.

Greene beats me out of the car. He jumps on Joe and punches him.

I run to Greene, grab him by the back of his shirt and pull him off Joe. My right hand is pulled back for a hard punch.

"Hey, not a good idea to punch your HOA President," Joe mumbles.

"Touch my brother again and I'll kill you," I mutter before dropping Greene to the ground.

"Verbal threats are ok, just nothing in writing," Joe mumbles.

"You ok?" I ask.

Joe is a mess of blood, dirt and bruises.

"Bernice's heart meds," Joe says and pushes a pill bottle into my hand.

The police sirens get louder.

A black and white police car skids to a stop. "What's going on?" Con shouts out the driver's window.

I toss him the bottle of heart pills. "Mrs. Winthrop needs her heart medicine. She's at the condos."

"I radioed for backup," Con shouts before he speeds away.

"Joe, don't move," I say and cover him with my jacket. "I want a medic to check you out."

"How about checking out the guy in the upside down Mercedes?" Joe says.

Can't believe I forgot to secure the crime scene. If Dad hears about this I'm dead.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Dad. You can buy my silence," Joe says.

"We'll make it an even trade. I won't tell Dad about the one wheel wheelie," I say.

"No choice, he was gonna take out the guard booth with the car. I had to distract him," Joe says.

While Joe talks I pull out my gun and cautiously walk to the car. I kneel down and put my hand on the guy's neck. "He's alive. Looks like a broken leg and possible concussion."

A second police cruiser pulls up. "Can you radio for two ambulances?" I shout.

"One ambulance!" Joe shouts.

"You are getting checked out by a doctor," I say.

I shoot him my death glare, but Joe's eyes are closed. He is shivering in the cold ditch water.

"Afraid to move the other guy until the medics get here, the second police officer says. "But I got my rescue blanket to keep this guy warm."

"Thanks," I say and grab the reflective blanket. I tuck it around Joe.

An ambulance pulls up with its lights flashing.

"Examine the guy in the car first," I say.

"Hey! What about me!" Mr. Greene shouts. "My arm is cut!"

I look at Greene. I squint and see a faint scratch on his lower arm.

The medics shake their heads in disgust and walk to the car.

I rest my hand on Joe's shoulder.

Another police vehicle arrives to take photos of the crime scene.

"Can you look at something?" Con asks.

"Sure," I say.

"We found a bunch of stuff in the backseat," Con says as we walk to the upside down Mercedes.

"Valuables?"

"Maybe before the crash," Con says.

A golf cart skids to a stop. A thin older man in a black suit and tie gets out.

"I've been robbed!" the man shouts.

"Any of this look familiar?" Con asks and motions to the back seat of the upside down car.

"Yes! Those are my vintage cameras and medical instruments!"

"Medical instruments?" Con asks.

"Yes, I'm Doctor Charles Tager."

**POV Joe**

My ears perk up when he says 'Doctor.'

"Hey, Doc? Can you look at me quick so I can go home?" I ask.

Can't believe I'm asking a doctor to examine me.

God, please don't make me go back to the hospital. I lost my house and special spot with Iola. Please don't trap me in a hospital room. I just want to go home…and I don't even have one.

"He's the one who recovered your property," Con says.

"Actually Frank did the recovering, I just kept the bad guy in sight," I say.

Doc Winston walks over.

He puts his thin hand on my wrist and takes my pulse.

"Good, strong pulse," he says.

"I have one question," Doc says.

"You want to know if he's dizzy, nauseous or seeing double?" Frank asks.

"No, I want to know why I became a physician. My brother was an accountant for forty years. Nobody bothers him in retirement."

"We're going to the hospital," Frank says.

Doc runs his hands lightly over my arms, legs and ribs.

"No need. He's just bruised and sore," Doc says.

"But you want him to get checked out at the hospital,right?"Frank says.

"No, I am playing poker at the clubhouse in twenty minutes," Doc said.

"So I don't have to go the hospital?" I ask.

"I'm not," Doc says. He gets back in his golf cart.

"What if he gets a headache or double vision?" Frank asks.

"Give him an aspirin. I'll check on him after my poker game," Doc says.

"When will that be?" Frank asks.

"Depends on who is playing," Doc says.

"You're being kind of casual about my brother's health," Frank says.

Doc gets out of his golf cart and walks over to Frank.

"When I examined your brother I noticed a lot of scars. And he's recovering from a gun shot in his right leg. He's also about 15 pounds underweight. I think he'd rest and eat better at home. My patients always do."

"I know you think I'm old codger who doesn't know his ear from his elbow. The truth is your brother looks worn out. I'd rather not expose him to all the germs at the hospital. I also don't want him getting more X-rays because his scars tell me he's already had a lot. I don't like my patients getting unnecessary x rays. If you're willing to gamble with his health, you load him in the ambulance. If not, I'll be over in one hour. By the way, I'm not worried about a concussion because he's cognizant, his pupils aren't dilated and he was wearing a helmet."

"Do you know where I live?" Frank asks.

"Condo four. You drive a black Lexus, but you go through cars like Elmer goes through chips when he tries to bluff. Doesn't know his nose twitches when he lies."

Doc walks back to his golf cart and gets in.

"We'll see you in an hour," I shout.

Doc drives away.

"I don't like this," Frank grumbles.

"Hey, you said a doctor had to look me over," I say and get to my feet.

"Using medical techniques from the 1800s," Frank growls.

I walk to my Mustang, climb in the passenger seat and shut the door.

"If anything is seriously wrong with you, Dad will kill me," Frank says.

"Relax Frank. Dad doesn't want me getting so many x rays I glow in the dark. Won't be able to do night stakeouts then."

A beige sedan is parked outside Frank's condo. I've never been so happy to see Leo, our insurance guy. Maybe he'll make Frank forget this hospital nonsense.

"Frank? Is this a bad time?" Leo asks.

He's Leo to me, but Frank always calls him Leonard.

He's a meek guy, ten years older than Frank.

"Yes," Frank growls.

"No," I say as Frank helps me to the condo's front door.

**Pov Frank**

"Can you hold this?" I ask and push Joe so he slumps against Leonard, our insurance agent.

I unlock my door, grab Joe and haul him inside.

"So Leo, what's going on with our insurance?" Joe asks.

I will kill him. He wants Leonard here as a safety buffer.

Leo is covered in blood and dirt where Joe leaned against him.

"Frank, I brought the check to replace your car," Leonard says and pulls out an envelope.

"Wow, Frank's car just got totaled yesterday," Joe says.

"Yesterday? This is for the car you totaled two months ago," Leonard says.

"Dude, you're a car behind," Joe says.

"You wrecked another car?"Leonard asks. He stumbles to a chair, loosens his necktie, and sits down.

"Maybe if you bought black Lexus cars in bulk you could save money,"Joe says.

I shoot Joe a death glare. He ignores me.

"Maybe you want to find a different insurance company?" Leonard asks hopefully.

I understand. Joe or I file an insurance claim every other week.

"Never!" Joe says. "So you got a bit behind at work, it happens to everybody."

"Don't you need to go upstairs and rest?" I ask Joe pointedly.

"Nah. I'm feeling better."

"You're bleeding on my couch," I say through grit teeth.

"Lenny, Frank's couch is insured, right?" Joe asks.

"Could I have a glass if water?" Leonard asks.

He does look pale.

While I'm in the kitchen, I hear Joe talking.

"I think you and your brother have more insurance claims than we can process," Leonard says.

"No way. I love your radio ad slogans," Joe says.

"Here's your water," I say. "Do you feel we're not a good fit for your company?"

"Well…maybe a larger firm could process your claims faster," Leonard says.

"Car been jacked? We got your back," Joe says.

"I thought of that slogan," Leonard says and smiles.

"If you want us to find another insurance company…." I trail off.

"Slip and fall? You know who to call," Joe says.

"That one's mine too," Leonard says and smiles.

"Joe, we're trying to conduct some business," I say.

"Massive flood? Call your bud," Joe says.

" I came up with that one five minutes before we recorded it at the studio," Leonard says.

"Did you get hurt? Just call Bert," Joe says.

"Thought up that one too," Leonard says. "Bert's my older brother."

"Why don't you handle my claims and let Bert handle Frank's?" Joe asks. "Tell him we requested it."

Leonard looks hopeful. Which is an expression I've never seen on him.

"Roof fall in? Don't feel grim?" Joe says. "That's my favorite."

"Thanks. I thought of it in the shower," Leonard says and smiles.

I've known him five years and never seen him smile. How does Joe manage to charm everybody? Why is connecting with people so easy for Joe and hard for me?

Jealousy takes over.

"Speaking of roofs falling in, did Joe mention he needs to file a claim on his house?" I ask.

Joe goes quiet. The light in his eyes goes out. Just like after Iola died. I hate myself.

"Your house is gone?" Leonard asks.

"I forgot," Joe says in a small voice.

I am the worst brother ever.

"The whole house?" Leonard asks.

"We were ambushed by two hit men with machine guns," I say.

"You were right," Joe says. "We are too much work. I'm not filing a claim on the house. And I'll find another insurance agent."

"Frank! Joe! Are you ok?" Dad shouts as he walks in without knocking.

"Yeah, we're good," Joe says. "I'm gonna get cleaned up."

He goes upstairs. I notice he's still avoiding Dad.

"Well, my insurance business is done," Leonard says. "I'll be on my way."

"Hold it, aren't you Joe's insurance agent?" Dad asks.

"I was, but he fired me."

"Well have a seat, I'm rehiring you," Dad says. "What about the claim on Joe's house?"

"He decided not to file one," Leonard says.

"Leonard, we both know Joe is hurt and not thinking clearly," Dad says. "Now let's take a drive out to hisj house. You need to move things along so we can get Joe back in there ASAP."

"Frank, Con wants you to stop by the police station," Sam says. "He says the hit men's story doesn't make sense. I'll keep an eye on Joe."

Twenty minutes later I join Con in an interrogation room.

"Frank, I can't figure it out. Both these guys claim they fired kill shots that hit you and Joe," Con says.

I can only think of one explanation. And there's no way I am sharing it with Con.

The verse in Joe's Bible flashes through my mind, "you are a shield around me."*

"Maybe they had taken drugs?" I ask.

"No, they tested negative," Con says.

I knew that. They weren't shooting or behaving erratically. They were cold, calculating killers. Joe and I should both be dead.

I try to rub the sleep from my eyes. Nothing makes sense.

"They seem rational…even passed their lie detector tests," Con says. "These are professional hit men who make at least a million per job. To be honest, they are out of our league. The FBI is picking them up in an hour."

"I want to talk to them," I say as I force myself to swallow more police coffee.

"They should be here any minute," Con says. "So were you wearing bulletproof vests?"

"No Con, we should be dead."

The door opens. A large man in an orange jumpsuit is led inside. He wears handcuffs.

"Who hired you?" Con asks.

"If I told you I'd be dead in an hour," the hit man says.

"Where's your brother? I wanted to see both of you."

"Not happening," I say.

Before I can react the hit man wraps his cuffed hands around Con's throat. He throws Con against a wall and stuns him.

I attack him, but am thrown into a wall. My breath is knocked out of me. I watch him place the chair under the doorknob so no one can enter.

"Now I finish my job," he says and wraps the chain of his handcuffs around my neck. Spots dance in front of my eyes.

"I'll catch your brother later," he says.

Psalm 3:3


	13. Groundhog Brown

Thanks to God n Fluffykitty12 who will teach me how to post these chaps or die trying.

Miranda n Barb thnx for motivating me w yr kind words. You r in this chap – hope u don't mind.

Chap 13

Pov Joe

I stifle a groan as I pull Frank's polo shirt over my head. Partially because I'm in pain, mostly because Frank has scary taste in clothes. Who buys black polo shirts? Frank and people in the mob.

My jeans and t shirt are torn and blood stained from the motorcycle crash. All my clothes are back in what's left of my house.

Glad I kicked Sam out. Impossible to hide my pain.

"You ok?" Sam shouts through the closed door.

"Go away," I yell through grit teeth as I pull on a pair of Frank's ugly brown sweats. Who wears brown? Groundhogs and Frank.

The pants are too long. I hate Frank, myself and the guys who shot up my house.

Sam opens the door and walks inside.

"Trust me, I'd like to," Sam says. He gently grabs my arm and helps me down the stairs. "I had to cancel my date with Michelle."

"Sorry," I mumble as I collapse on Frank's leather couch.

"No problem, if you feel half as bad as you look, we're in trouble," Sam says.

He covers me with an expensive looking scratchy wool blanket the same gray as Frank's walls.

Why is everything here so ugly and uncomfortable? I miss my house or what's left of it.

Maybe I could sleep in my Mustang on the beach by what's left of my house.

"Frank?" I ask.

"He and Con are questioning the guys who tried to kill you," Sam says.

"Can't believe I'm homeless," I mumble.

"I don't think Frank will put you out on the street," Sam says with a smile.

"If we're stuck living together, I may find a cardboard box and toss myself out on the street," I grumble.

I want to trust God, but it's hard when I'm a mess and homeless.

"Con said the guys who tried to kill you claim something deflected their kill shots,"Sam says. "Any idea what he's talking about?"

I nod no. I grit my teeth as pain jolts through me.

The doorbell rings.

"Probably the doctor," Sam says.

But when he opens the door, I see two young women.

"Hi, I'm Barb," says the tall blond woman. "This is my friend Miranda. We're here to clean Mr. Hardy's condo."

"Wait a minute," I say. "Frank told me he keeps this place up on his own."

"All our clients say that," Miranda says with a grin. "No one wants to admit they use a cleaning service, so we named our business 'On My Own."'

"I'm gonna kill him," I say and scowl. "Do you know how long Frank's been nagging me to pick up my place? Forever."

"Brotherly love," Barb says and laughs.

"Hey, could you short sheet Frank's bed for me?" I ask.

"Sorry," Miranda says. "We have our professional ethics."

"$100?" I ask.

"You're on," Barb says.

I grab my wallet off the side table, pull out my emergency $100 bill, and hand it to Barb.

"We'll get fired," Miranda says.

"Stop worrying," Barb says. "We're not scheduled to clean today. We just stopped by to ask Frank if we could switch our cleaning day. He'll never know we were here."

"No worries. I'll tell Frank I short sheeted his bed," I say. "He'll drive himself crazy trying to figure out how I did it."

They go upstairs.

I smile for the first time since my house got destroyed. I like these women.

Still can't believe my house is toast. My last piece of Iola – the cottage deck- is gone.

Insurance won't cover rebuilding the place. Guess I'll have to look for a cheap, crappy apartment to fit my budget.

Or I could ask Tony to save me a big cardboard box from his pizzeria. At least my new cardboard house will smell like pizza.

"Heard the condo board wants to give you a reward," Sam says as he hands me an ice pack for my pick of sore areas.

"Hope it's a new house," I mumble as the doorbell rings.

I'm grateful to have a minute alone before I have to wipe the pain off my face.

"What's up Doc?" I say as Doc walks over.

Sam's phone rings. He glances at the phone number and frowns. "I've got to take this, but I'm getting a full report from the doctor."

When Sam leaves, the doctor pulls out a black bag like I've only seen in old movies.

"So how are you feeling?" Doc asks as he takes my blood pressure.

"Good," I say.

"Blood pressure is normal," Doc says.

Doc shines a light in my eyes.

"So how are you really feeling?" he asks.

"Good," I say, trying to convince both of us.

"Look, I'm old. I don't have time for this," he says and starts to pack up his bag.

"If you aren't going to level with me, I'm out of here. I'll call an ambulance for you," Doc says.

"What makes you think I'm faking?" I ask.

"You are underweight, exhausted and look like you haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks," Doc says.

I grit my teeth. Hospital or honesty? I can't take the hospital.

"Sometimes I have nightmares," I mumble.

"Me too," Doc says. "Son, we're a lot alike. We carry guilt for the people we couldn't save."

"You have guilt?" I ask.

"Every doctor I know does. My wife died of brain cancer. A year later my only child overdosed on drugs."

"The woman I was going to marry died in a car bomb meant for me," I whisper.

"Son, my wife left me a note. I found it in our Bible after she died. Made me promise I wouldn't blame myself. I bet yours would tell you the same," Doc says.

"I just want to tell her I'm sorry," I say and blink back tears.

"Son, she knows. I don't think anyone we love ever leaves us."

It's true. Sometimes I feel Iola is near me . I close my eyes and lie back on the couch.

"Swallow these pills and get some sleep," Doc says. "I'll be back in a few hours."

God, You know I want to believe. I just have so many questions. Can you let Iola know I'm sorry?

I feel peace. The smell of Iola's lilac perfume comforts me.

I fall asleep wondering if it's just a dream.

Pov Frank

"I'm gonna enjoy snapping your neck," Leonard growls.

His hands tighten around my neck.

"You won't get away with this," I whisper as black spots crowd my vision.

"Think again. I studied blueprints of the police station. After I kill you, I crawl through that ventilation shaft. I've got a car, money and guns in it. But thanks for thinking of me."

I have to stop this guy. But he is choking me out. I am not going to survive. My last thought is of Joe. I can't let this guy kill him.

Something falls on my head. The pressure leaves my throat. I gasp in air.

Through glazed eyes I watch a police officer tazer the guy who almost killed me.

"Guy with him," I whisper. "Prison blueprints."

"Figures," the cop says and cuffs the unconscious prisoner's hands.

He hits the clip radio on his shirt. "Need a report on Staris ASAP. He's the prisoner getting picked up by the FBI."

The cop removes the chair from under the door handle. A swarm of blue uniforms rushes in.

"Frank? You ok?" Con asks from across the room. A stream of blood covers his scalp.

"Frank?" the officer who rescued me asks. "You're Frank Hardy?"

I nod once and regret it as pain rockets through my head.

"Your old man almost let my prisoner escape, now I had to pull your butt out of the fire," the cop says. "You guys sure don't live up to your reputation. Are you working for the other side or just really bad at what you do?"

"Harrison that's enough!" Con shouts. "Fenton Hardy bagged your perp – get over it! And a real cop doesn't insult someone after he saves them!"

The room is quiet. Everyone stares at me and Harrison. I really don't need this.

Only one thing to do. I swallow hard, grit my teeth and get to my feet.

"Thanks for the assist," I say and put out my hand to shake. Harrison never offers his hand to shake. My world spins and everything fades to black.

Pov Frank Two hours later

I hear someone talking.

"He should be fine Mr. Hardy," someone says. "He just needs to rest."

I force my eyes open.

"Joe?" I ask.

"Easy Frank. It's Dad. You remember what happened?"

A jumble of memories from the police interrogation room hits me.

"Con ok?" I hoarsely whisper.

"He's in the room next door," Dad says. "Possible concussion and some broken ribs."

Dad holds out a paper cup. Water never tasted so good.

"I messed up," I say.

"We're only human Frank," Dad says. "Main thing is you are ok."

"Harrison saved me," I mumble.

"At least he didn't make a speech about how you should retire," Dad said.

"No, he suggested I was either really bad at what I did or working for the bad guys," I say and shut my eyes.

"Guy needs a personality transplant," Dad says. His phone rings.

"Hardy," he growls.

"No, that's not an option. Redo all the plumbing. If Joe's insurance doesn't cover it, I will. Hold on a minute," Dad says.

"Frank, the deck was the only part of the house that reminded Joe of Iola, right?" Dad asks.

I nod and regret it as waves of pain flood my head.

Dad puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Raze everything except the deck. That one area has to stay the same. I've picked out a state of the art security system so the electrical has to be updated. Call me if you have any questions."

Dad hangs up.

"Think you can keep Joe occupied until I get the build done?" Dad asks.

"Definitely," I say. "How is Joe?"

"Sleeping. Which is good. I need Joe ready for anything," Dad says.

"Staris escaped prison. He's on the loose. You and Joe are all that's standing between him and $10 million," Dad says. "And we still have no idea who he is working for."


	14. We All Fall Down

Thanks to Fluffykitty12 and God. Reviews welcome.

Chapter 14 We All Fall Down

POV Frank

In a bad mood. I hate hospitals as much as Joe. I just don't show it.

Dad's cell phone rings.

"Hardy," Dad growls.

"What do you mean the beach cottage foundation isn't solid?" Dad shouts.

Dad listens silently, but I can feel his blood pressure rising.

"How could the shooting compromised a load bearing wall? We're talking about bullets, not cannonballs!" Dad shouts. "I don't care if your gut is telling you to knock it down! My gut is telling me to hire a new contractor!"

I smile. Dad and Joe have the same amount of patience – none. But Dad hides this when Joe is around. Unfortunately, I don't get the same treatment.

"Stick in a few supporting beams! How should I know how many? I'm not an engineer!" Dad shouts.

"What do you mean you have to jack up the cottage and pour a new foundation! Get the engineer out there ASAP! Tell me what he says!" Dad shouts and disconnects.

"I'd rather get shot than remodel," Dad mutters.

I drive Dad to the beach cottage where his car is parked. Dad spends the whole time on his cell phone, calling in favors from every contractor and engineer he knows.

I cherish the silence in my car after I drop Dad off. Still hate myself for having to be rescued by Harrison – the Wonder Rookie. Why couldn't anybody else have saved me? Maybe I would have preferred to be injured or killed.

Ten minutes later, I pull Joe's Mustang halfway into my condo driveway. Only halfway because Mr. Greene is shouting at Joe on my front porch.

"…breaking rules!" Greene shouts.

I quickly get out of the car.

"What's going on?" I ask.

I stand between Greene and Joe. My brother is pale and leaning against my porch railing. Clear signs Joe is not up to dealing with Greene.

"Your brother is violating Section Four of the Homeowners Agreement!" Greene shouts.

"Translation?" I ask Joe.

"He wants them to go to the pound," Joe says and nudges his head to the left.

Two thin cats sit in my expensive L.L. Bean deck chair. The orange cat sleeps, while the black cat puffs up and hisses.

I half smile. I'm reminded of me and Joe. My brother can and does sleep anywhere, anytime. I am always on guard trying to protect him from dangers way beyond my control.

Joe and I don't have a leg to stand on. Pets are prohibited at Fox Run. It's one of the reasons I moved here. I figured less stress and less mess.

An animal control truck pulls up. I cringe. The Bayport Animal Shelter is a kill shelter. Last week a newspaper article said the shelter was overcrowded.

A man in a dirty uniform, whose nametag reads Ralph, gets out of the truck. He chomps on a cigar.

"Here for some cats," Ralph says.

"Not happening," Joe says. "They belong to me."

"No pets are allowed at Fox Run!" Greene shouts. "I'm the HOA President! I wrote the bylaw!"

"Look, I'm a trained professional," Ralph says to Greene. "Butt out."

Greene gives him the evil eye, but is quiet.

"If these are your cats, why are they so thin?" Ralph asks.

"I got them today," Joe says.

Reading between the lines, I realize Joe found the cats five minutes ago - tops.

"What are their names?" Ralph asks.

Joe's left eye twitches. It only happens when he lies. Trust me, that twitch has won me a lot of money on poker night with Joe and the guys.

"The black one is Batman," Joe says.

I snicker. Joe has loved Batman ever since he was a kid. He's even accused me of being like Batman. Hey, wait a minute…. ***

"Tang is the orange one," Joe says. "Named him after my Mustang car."

"So you can control them, right?" Ralph asks.

"They're cats," Joe says. "Nobody controls them."

"Look, if they hurt anybody my job is history," Ralph says. "I've got five weeks 'til I retire with my full pension. You pick them up or I take them in. Your choice."

"OK," Joe says. His left eye twitches.

Joe takes a slow step toward the cats. He reaches out to pick up Tang. Batman hisses.

This isn't going to end well. I step between Joe and the cats.

Batman glares at me. I glare back.

"Actually, Batman is my cat," I say. I walk behind the chair and pick up the cat by the scruff of the neck – like his mother would. I hold him in the air. The cat tries to scratch me, but his claws just paddle the air.

"We're still getting to know each other," I say over the cat's hissing.

Joe takes his cue and picks up the still sleeping Tang.

I place Batman on the deck chair and step away quickly before I need stitches.

Bats glares at Joe who holds the sleeping Tang.

"Do the cats have licenses?" Ralph asks.

"Uh….no, I just got them," Joe says.

"Pay $25 a cat and they're yours," Ralph says.

"Uh Frank, I'm a little short," Joe says.

I sigh and take $50 out of my wallet. I hand it to Ralph.

"NO ANIMALS ARE ALLOWED!" Greene shouts. He moves toward the cats. The thin black cat hisses. Tang keeps sleeping in Joe's arms.

"If they have licenses, they ain't my problem," Ralph says as he pockets my money.

"Do we need to fill out some paperwork?" I ask.

"Nah, we're good," Ralph says. "I'll fill it out when I get back to the shelter."

Sure you will. I just bribed a public official. Dad would be so proud.

"These aren't his cats! I found them in the bushes! They're wild! No animals are allowed at Fox Run!" Greene shouts. Spittle flies out of his mouth.

"Not my problem," Ralph says. He climbs into the animal control truck and leaves.

"I am evicting you!" Greene shouts as he leaves. "I'm going to the HOA office to start the paperwork!"

"Sorry," Joe mumbles.

"Actually, I'm impressed. I've lived here four years with no problems," I say and put my arm around Joe's shoulder to help him inside. "You're here two hours and I'm getting evicted."

"Wanna be really impressed?" Joe asks. "I was only awake ten minutes. I woke up cuz Greene was outside screaming. Came out and found the cats."

"Incredible. Your ability to find trouble never ceases to amaze me. We're not keeping them," I say.

"Look on the bright side, maybe the hitman will kill us, before Greene can evict us," Joe says.

He walks inside with Tang. Bats hisses at me, jumps off the chair and follows Joe inside.

I run my hand through my hair. A professional hitman is trying to kill us. We don't have time for this drama.

"I repeat, we're NOT keeping them," I say. "Nothing you say will change my mind."

Joe's eyes get a puppy dog look. That look has landed us both in a lot of trouble in the past. I try to hold firm.

Unfortunately, I remember the first time Joe used "the look." He was three years old. We were decorating the Christmas tree.

"Daddy, me put angel on top?" Joe asked.

"Sure," Dad said with a smile. He lifted Joe to the top of the Christmas tree.

I felt mad. Putting the angle on top was my job. Or it had been. Joe stretched out his arms and shoved the angel over the top branch.

I'll never forget what happened next.

"Now Fwank do," Joe said. He pulled the angel off and threw it down to me.

Why do I always remember stuff like this at the worst possible times? Like now.

"If I'm evicted the HOA gets my condo," I say. "I'm out $700,000. It's not happening. Nothing you say will change my mind."

"They're brothers," Joe says.

I swallow hard. Of course, they're brothers….who look and act nothing alike.

"How do you know?" I ask.

"Cause they take care of each other," Joe says. "Tang keeps Bats out of trouble."

"How? He's slept the entire time I've known him," I say.

"Tang is a calming influence," Joe says.

"No, Tang is an unconscious influence," I say.

I know Joe is hurting when he lays on my leather couch without complaining. Tang jumps up, curls up on Joe's stomach and falls asleep. An odd purr like a weed whacker – only louder – fills the room.

"That cat sounds like it's going to explode," I say. "Can you mute it?"

"Shut up Frank," Joe says and yawns.

Bats perches on top of the couch like a scary gargoyle keeping watch. At least nothing else can go wrong. Maybe I'll take a nap while I still have a house.

"Better get your Bat butt to the store," Joe says with a yawn. "Bats needs a litter box and cat food."

"What about Tang?" I ask.

"Bats shares with his brother," Joe says.

Bats glares at me from the top of my leather couch. I wonder if he ever wishes he were an only child. I do.

POV JOE – Three hours Later

Shouting wakes me up.

"Frank, that's great!" Dad shouts.

"What's going on?" I mumble.

"Frank broke this case wide open," Sam says. "He hacked into Staris' encrypted computer files and decoded them," Sam says.

"Does the name Ocalis ring any bells?" Dad asks.

"No," I say and yawn.

Tang is asleep on my stomach. Bats is still perched on the couch guarding Tang. Yeah, Bats is neurotic. Definitely Frank's cat.

The theme music from Star Wars fills the living room.

"Where's my phone?" Frank asks with a glare.

"How would I know?" I ask.

Not my fault I have time to kill and Frank leaves his phone lying around.

Frank's phone rings again. More Star Wars music fills the room.

Frank glares and stares at his phone which is partially covered by my pillow.

"How did it get under there?" I ask and try to look innocent.

"When you recover, I am going to kill you," Frank mutters.

Before he can follow through on his threat, I hit speaker on his phone and answer it.

"Hardy," I say.

"Yes, this is Sawyer Brown from the International Association of Detectives."

"Sawyer, what can we do for you?" Dad asks.

"You can present Frank with the Detective of the Year Award at our June conference," Sawyer says.

I smile… until I see Frank. He is closing down. He wore the same look the year after Callie left. That year and Iola's death were the two worst times of my life.

I still hate Callie for leaving Frank. After she left he shut out the world…and me. He put up a wall that took me a year to break through. And it looks like that wall has just gone back up.

"I don't want it," Frank chokes out.

"It's a new first for us….we've never had the son of a former recipient win the award," Sawyer says.

"Uh….dad," I say.

"I'd be honored to present the award to Frank," Dad says. "Let's talk logistics and I'll clear my calendar."

Dad walks outdoors with Frank's phone. My brother goes upstairs and slams a door. I'm guessing the home office. When Frank is upset, he buries himself in work.

"Joe, I'm going to run the information Frank found," Sam says. "You need anything?"

"No, maybe I'll grab some sleep," I say and fake a yawn. After I figure out what's wrong with Frank.

When Sam leaves, I spot my duffel bag leaning against Frank's leather couch.

I unzip it and find my clothes, a photo of Iola and my devo book. Nearby is a litter box and two filled food bowls. Frank's been busy.

Tang stretches, jumps down and eats some dry food. Bats jumps down, hisses at me and grabs a few quick bites of food. Then he jumps back on the couch and keeps watch. Tang keeps eating. Yeah, Bats is definitely Frank's cat.

I hold Iola's picture and stroke her face with my thumb. The day I took the photo, she randomly opened her devotional. "Hey, you're reading the devo for June 11 and it's February," I joked and kissed her long, black hair.

"I always open it to a random page," Iola said. "I figure God will guide me to what he wants to say."

"For you, Babe," I whisper and flip the book open.

"Trust me, and don't be afraid. Many things feel out of control."****

Yeah, that hits home. I'm homeless, wearing Frank's weird clothes and my body is a mess.

"Say yes to the ways I work in your life. Trust Me, and don't be afraid."****

OK God, I could use a little help here. No idea how to talk to Frank. Or how to get upstairs to his office.

I crawl across Frank's hardwood floor. Every bruise on my body protests. Why couldn't Frank have carpeting?

I force my hand on the second step and put my knee on the first step. Pain steals my breath. My plan is to climb the stairs fast – before the pain catches up to me.

I force my shaking body up five steps. When I stop, I'm lost in a world of pain. But Frank needs me. Every minute he's building a mental wall I may never break through. I have to find out what monster has invaded his mind.

I force myself up the last five stairs. I crawl down the hall. Slowly, I grab a bookcase and use it to get to my feet. I grit my teeth and take a minute to regain control. Silently, I crack open the office door. Frank sits with his back to me absorbed in the stuff on his computer screen.

"We need to talk," I say, bracing myself on a table in Frank's office.

"Not now," Frank growls. He keeps his eyes on the computer screen.

This is bad. Just like how it was after Callie left.

I need a Plan B. Walking across the room and forcing Frank to speak is beyond my physical capabilities.

Hey God, I could use a little help here.

I open the mini fridge in Frank's home office. Apples, yogurt and bottles of water. I grab a bottle of water, uncap it and hold it over an expensive looking computer thing.

"We talk now, or I kill this ….. what is this?" I ask.

"Expensive," Frank says and turns back to his computer screen.

Ignoring me is never wise. I pour water on the expensive hardware.

The machine fizzles, smokes and dies

Frank's computer screen goes blank.

"Are you crazy!" Frank shouts.

Shouting is good. If I get Frank mad enough, he'll crack.

"I was tracing information on the hitman trying to kill us!" Frank shouts.

"You broke your promise," I say.

"What promise?" Frank asks.

"You're shutting down again," I say. "You are hiding up here because something happened when Brown called about the award."

I hold the bottle of water over another expensive looking computer component. I let a single drop of water fall on its plastic computer case. "Now you spill or I spill. Your choice."

"I'm not talking," Frank says and runs a hand through his hair.

"I know. Last year I waited a year for you to talk," I say. "I can't do that again Frank. It hurt too much."

I mean it.

"How did you get up here?" Frank asks, trying to distract me.

"Super powers," I say and let one drop fall on the computer case. "Now spill. You freaked out when the phone rang. Why?"

"Feel like I don't deserve the award," Frank mumbles. "You got hurt and I shut you out. Accepting an award feels fake."

"Getting hurt is part of the job. You were a good detective. You deserve the award," I say. "But you sucked as a brother. It won't happen again, right?"

"Right," Frank says, but I can see the wall is still up.

"What else?" I ask.

"Scared you'll die when we're working a case," Frank whispers.

His honesty stuns me.

"Ever think if you weren't such a great partner, I'd already be dead?" I whisper.

"What?" Frank asks.

"You are what's kept me going," I say. "I've done the math. One of us dies first or we go together. I don't want to be the one left behind. After Iola died, you were the only thing that kept me sane. If you're not here…."

"I'm here," Frank says.

Which is good because my body gives out. I crash into the computer desk. It collapses. I land on the floor with a bunch of shattered computer stuff.

"Joe!" Frank shouts.

"I'm good," I whisper.

"Sure you are," Frank says.

He carefully helps me to my feet. With his arm around my shoulder, Frank helps me to the nearest bedroom – his.

"Call Doc Tager," I mutter as I collapse on the bed.

"Ambulance," Frank says.

"Paper, rock, scissors," I say. "Or I don't eat anything."

Frank puts out his fist. He always chooses rock. I put out a flat palm – paper.

"I win," I mutter.

"I hate you. And paper, rock, scissors is not a good way to make important decisions," Frank says.

"Hi Doc, could you take a look at Joe?" Frank says into his cell phone. "He fell."

I lie on the bed with my eyes closed.

"Hey, stay awake until I know you don't have a head injury," Frank says. "How many fingers?"

"You have 10 fingers," I say with my eyes closed.

"Look, there's something I need to tell you," Frank says. "The hitman said he fired numerous kill shots at us, but they were all deflected. According to him, we should be dead. Do you know what happened?"

"Be strong and courageous," I whisper. "Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."*****

Frank pulls back the bedspread to cover me.

"How did you short sheet my bed? You can't even walk?" he asks.

"Super powers," I whisper.

*** See the stories written at the hardydetectiveagency online. Can't remember which story offhand. Sorry, but there are plenty of good ones.

**** Jesus Calling by Sarah Young

***** Joshua 1:9

"No, Tang is an unconscious influence," I say.

Chapter 14 We All Fall Down

POV Frank

In a bad mood. I hate hospitals as much as Joe. I just don't show it.

Dad's cell phone rings.

"Hardy," Dad growls.

"What do you mean the beach cottage foundation isn't solid?" Dad shouts.

Dad listens silently, but I can feel his blood pressure rising.

"How could the shooting compromised a load bearing wall? We're talking about bullets, not cannonballs!" Dad shouts. "I don't care if your gut is telling you to knock it down! My gut is telling me to hire a new contractor!"

I smile. Dad and Joe have the same amount of patience – none. But Dad hides this when Joe is around. Unfortunately, I don't get the same treatment.

"Stick in a few supporting beams! How should I know how many? I'm not an engineer!" Dad shouts.

"What do you mean you have to jack up the cottage and pour a new foundation! Get the engineer out there ASAP! Tell me what he says!" Dad shouts and disconnects.

"I'd rather get shot than remodel," Dad mutters.

I drive Dad to the beach cottage where his car is parked. Dad spends the whole time on his cell phone, calling in favors from every contractor and engineer he knows.

I cherish the silence in my car after I drop Dad off. Still hate myself for having to be rescued by Harrison – the Wonder Rookie. Why couldn't anybody else have saved me? Maybe I would have preferred to be injured or killed.

Ten minutes later, I pull Joe's Mustang halfway into my condo driveway. Only halfway because Mr. Greene is shouting at Joe on my front porch.

"…breaking rules!" Greene shouts.

I quickly get out of the car.

"What's going on?" I ask.

I stand between Greene and Joe. My brother is pale and leaning against my porch railing. Clear signs Joe is not up to dealing with Greene.

"Your brother is violating Section Four of the Homeowners Agreement!" Greene shouts.

"Translation?" I ask Joe.

"He wants them to go to the pound," Joe says and nudges his head to the left.

Two thin cats sit in my expensive L.L. Bean deck chair. The orange cat sleeps, while the black cat puffs up and hisses.

I half smile. I'm reminded of me and Joe. My brother can and does sleep anywhere, anytime. I am always on guard trying to protect him from dangers way beyond my control.

Joe and I don't have a leg to stand on. Pets are prohibited at Fox Run. It's one of the reasons I moved here. I figured less stress and less mess.

An animal control truck pulls up. I cringe. The Bayport Animal Shelter is a kill shelter. Last week a newspaper article said the shelter was overcrowded.

A man in a dirty uniform, whose nametag reads Ralph, gets out of the truck. He chomps on a cigar.

"Here for some cats," Ralph says.

"Not happening," Joe says. "They belong to me."

"No pets are allowed at Fox Run!" Greene shouts. "I'm the HOA President! I wrote the bylaw!"

"Look, I'm a trained professional," Ralph says to Greene. "Butt out."

Greene gives him the evil eye, but is quiet.

"If these are your cats, why are they so thin?" Ralph asks.

"I got them today," Joe says.

Reading between the lines, I realize Joe found the cats five minutes ago - tops.

"What are their names?" Ralph asks.

Joe's left eye twitches. It only happens when he lies. Trust me, that twitch has won me a lot of money on poker night with Joe and the guys.

"The black one is Batman," Joe says.

I snicker. Joe has loved Batman ever since he was a kid. He's even accused me of being like Batman. Hey, wait a minute…. ***

"Tang is the orange one," Joe says. "Named him after my Mustang car."

"So you can control them, right?" Ralph asks.

"They're cats," Joe says. "Nobody controls them."

"Look, if they hurt anybody my job is history," Ralph says. "I've got five weeks 'til I retire with my full pension. You pick them up or I take them in. Your choice."

"OK," Joe says. His left eye twitches.

Joe takes a slow step toward the cats. He reaches out to pick up Tang. Batman hisses.

This isn't going to end well. I step between Joe and the cats.

Batman glares at me. I glare back.

"Actually, Batman is my cat," I say. I walk behind the chair and pick up the cat by the scruff of the neck – like his mother would. I hold him in the air. The cat tries to scratch me, but his claws just paddle the air.

"We're still getting to know each other," I say over the cat's hissing.

Joe takes his cue and picks up the still sleeping Tang.

I place Batman on the deck chair and step away quickly before I need stitches.

Bats glares at Joe who holds the sleeping Tang.

"Do the cats have licenses?" Ralph asks.

"Uh….no, I just got them," Joe says.

"Pay $25 a cat and they're yours," Ralph says.

"Uh Frank, I'm a little short," Joe says.

I sigh and take $50 out of my wallet. I hand it to Ralph.

"NO ANIMALS ARE ALLOWED!" Greene shouts. He moves toward the cats. The thin black cat hisses. Tang keeps sleeping in Joe's arms.

"If they have licenses, they ain't my problem," Ralph says as he pockets my money.

"Do we need to fill out some paperwork?" I ask.

"Nah, we're good," Ralph says. "I'll fill it out when I get back to the shelter."

Sure you will. I just bribed a public official. Dad would be so proud.

"These aren't his cats! I found them in the bushes! They're wild! No animals are allowed at Fox Run!" Greene shouts. Spittle flies out of his mouth.

"Not my problem," Ralph says. He climbs into the animal control truck and leaves.

"I am evicting you!" Greene shouts as he leaves. "I'm going to the HOA office to start the paperwork!"

"Sorry," Joe mumbles.

"Actually, I'm impressed. I've lived here four years with no problems," I say and put my arm around Joe's shoulder to help him inside. "You're here two hours and I'm getting evicted."

"Wanna be really impressed?" Joe asks. "I was only awake ten minutes. I woke up cuz Greene was outside screaming. Came out and found the cats."

"Incredible. Your ability to find trouble never ceases to amaze me. We're not keeping them," I say.

"Look on the bright side, maybe the hitman will kill us, before Greene can evict us," Joe says.

He walks inside with Tang. Bats hisses at me, jumps off the chair and follows Joe inside.

I run my hand through my hair. A professional hitman is trying to kill us. We don't have time for this drama.

"I repeat, we're NOT keeping them," I say. "Nothing you say will change my mind."

Joe's eyes get a puppy dog look. That look has landed us both in a lot of trouble in the past. I try to hold firm.

Unfortunately, I remember the first time Joe used "the look." He was three years old. We were decorating the Christmas tree.

"Daddy, me put angel on top?" Joe asked.

"Sure," Dad said with a smile. He lifted Joe to the top of the Christmas tree.

I felt mad. Putting the angle on top was my job. Or it had been. Joe stretched out his arms and shoved the angel over the top branch.

I'll never forget what happened next.

"Now Fwank do," Joe said. He pulled the angel off and threw it down to me.

Why do I always remember stuff like this at the worst possible times? Like now.

"If I'm evicted the HOA gets my condo," I say. "I'm out $700,000. It's not happening. Nothing you say will change my mind."

"They're brothers," Joe says.

I swallow hard. Of course, they're brothers….who look and act nothing alike.

"How do you know?" I ask.

"Cause they take care of each other," Joe says. "Tang keeps Bats out of trouble."

"How? He's slept the entire time I've known him," I say.

"Tang is a calming influence," Joe says.

"No, Tang is an unconscious influence," I say.

I know Joe is hurting when he lays on my leather couch without complaining. Tang jumps up, curls up on Joe's stomach and falls asleep. An odd purr like a weed whacker – only louder – fills the room.

"That cat sounds like it's going to explode," I say. "Can you mute it?"

"Shut up Frank," Joe says and yawns.

Bats perches on top of the couch like a scary gargoyle keeping watch. At least nothing else can go wrong. Maybe I'll take a nap while I still have a house.

"Better get your Bat butt to the store," Joe says with a yawn. "Bats needs a litter box and cat food."

"What about Tang?" I ask.

"Bats shares with his brother," Joe says.

Bats glares at me from the top of my leather couch. I wonder if he ever wishes he were an only child. I do.

POV JOE – Three hours Later

Shouting wakes me up.

"Frank, that's great!" Dad shouts.

"What's going on?" I mumble.

"Frank broke this case wide open," Sam says. "He hacked into Staris' encrypted computer files and decoded them," Sam says.

"Does the name Ocalis ring any bells?" Dad asks.

"No," I say and yawn.

Tang is asleep on my stomach. Bats is still perched on the couch guarding Tang. Yeah, Bats is neurotic. Definitely Frank's cat.

The theme music from Star Wars fills the living room.

"Where's my phone?" Frank asks with a glare.

"How would I know?" I ask.

Not my fault I have time to kill and Frank leaves his phone lying around.

Frank's phone rings again. More Star Wars music fills the room.

Frank glares and stares at his phone which is partially covered by my pillow.

"How did it get under there?" I ask and try to look innocent.

"When you recover, I am going to kill you," Frank mutters.

Before he can follow through on his threat, I hit speaker on his phone and answer it.

"Hardy," I say.

"Yes, this is Sawyer Brown from the International Association of Detectives."

"Sawyer, what can we do for you?" Dad asks.

"You can present Frank with the Detective of the Year Award at our June conference," Sawyer says.

I smile… until I see Frank. He is closing down. He wore the same look the year after Callie left. That year and Iola's death were the two worst times of my life.

I still hate Callie for leaving Frank. After she left he shut out the world…and me. He put up a wall that took me a year to break through. And it looks like that wall has just gone back up.

"I don't want it," Frank chokes out.

"It's a new first for us….we've never had the son of a former recipient win the award," Sawyer says.

"Uh….dad," I say.

"I'd be honored to present the award to Frank," Dad says. "Let's talk logistics and I'll clear my calendar."

Dad walks outdoors with Frank's phone. My brother goes upstairs and slams a door. I'm guessing the home office. When Frank is upset, he buries himself in work.

"Joe, I'm going to run the information Frank found," Sam says. "You need anything?"

"No, maybe I'll grab some sleep," I say and fake a yawn. After I figure out what's wrong with Frank.

When Sam leaves, I spot my duffel bag leaning against Frank's leather couch.

I unzip it and find my clothes, a photo of Iola and my devo book. Nearby is a litter box and two filled food bowls. Frank's been busy.

Tang stretches, jumps down and eats some dry food. Bats jumps down, hisses at me and grabs a few quick bites of food. Then he jumps back on the couch and keeps watch. Tang keeps eating. Yeah, Bats is definitely Frank's cat.

I hold Iola's picture and stroke her face with my thumb. The day I took the photo, she randomly opened her devotional. "Hey, you're reading the devo for June 11 and it's February," I joked and kissed her long, black hair.

"I always open it to a random page," Iola said. "I figure God will guide me to what he wants to say."

"For you, Babe," I whisper and flip the book open.

"Trust me, and don't be afraid. Many things feel out of control."****

Yeah, that hits home. I'm homeless, wearing Frank's weird clothes and my body is a mess.

"Say yes to the ways I work in your life. Trust Me, and don't be afraid."****

OK God, I could use a little help here. No idea how to talk to Frank. Or how to get upstairs to his office.

I crawl across Frank's hardwood floor. Every bruise on my body protests. Why couldn't Frank have carpeting?

I force my hand on the second step and put my knee on the first step. Pain steals my breath. My plan is to climb the stairs fast – before the pain catches up to me.

I force my shaking body up five steps. When I stop, I'm lost in a world of pain. But Frank needs me. Every minute he's building a mental wall I may never break through. I have to find out what monster has invaded his mind.

I force myself up the last five stairs. I crawl down the hall. Slowly, I grab a bookcase and use it to get to my feet. I grit my teeth and take a minute to regain control. Silently, I crack open the office door. Frank sits with his back to me absorbed in the stuff on his computer screen.

"We need to talk," I say, bracing myself on a table in Frank's office.

"Not now," Frank growls. He keeps his eyes on the computer screen.

This is bad. Just like how it was after Callie left.

I need a Plan B. Walking across the room and forcing Frank to speak is beyond my physical capabilities.

Hey God, I could use a little help here.

I open the mini fridge in Frank's home office. Apples, yogurt and bottles of water. I grab a bottle of water, uncap it and hold it over an expensive looking computer thing.

"We talk now, or I kill this ….. what is this?" I ask.

"Expensive," Frank says and turns back to his computer screen.

Ignoring me is never wise. I pour water on the expensive hardware.

The machine fizzles, smokes and dies

Frank's computer screen goes blank.

"Are you crazy!" Frank shouts.

Shouting is good. If I get Frank mad enough, he'll crack.

"I was tracing information on the hitman trying to kill us!" Frank shouts.

"You broke your promise," I say.

"What promise?" Frank asks.

"You're shutting down again," I say. "You are hiding up here because something happened when Brown called about the award."

I hold the bottle of water over another expensive looking computer component. I let a single drop of water fall on its plastic computer case. "Now you spill or I spill. Your choice."

"I'm not talking," Frank says and runs a hand through his hair.

"I know. Last year I waited a year for you to talk," I say. "I can't do that again Frank. It hurt too much."

I mean it.

"How did you get up here?" Frank asks, trying to distract me.

"Super powers," I say and let one drop fall on the computer case. "Now spill. You freaked out when the phone rang. Why?"

"Feel like I don't deserve the award," Frank mumbles. "You got hurt and I shut you out. Accepting an award feels fake."

"Getting hurt is part of the job. You were a good detective. You deserve the award," I say. "But you sucked as a brother. It won't happen again, right?"

"Right," Frank says, but I can see the wall is still up.

"What else?" I ask.

"Scared you'll die when we're working a case," Frank whispers.

His honesty stuns me.

"Ever think if you weren't such a great partner, I'd already be dead?" I whisper.

"What?" Frank asks.

"You are what's kept me going," I say. "I've done the math. One of us dies first or we go together. I don't want to be the one left behind. After Iola died, you were the only thing that kept me sane. If you're not here…."

"I'm here," Frank says.

Which is good because my body gives out. I crash into the computer desk. It collapses. I land on the floor with a bunch of shattered computer stuff.

"Joe!" Frank shouts.

"I'm good," I whisper.

"Sure you are," Frank says.

He carefully helps me to my feet. With his arm around my shoulder, Frank helps me to the nearest bedroom – his.

"Call Doc Tager," I mutter as I collapse on the bed.

"Ambulance," Frank says.

"Paper, rock, scissors," I say. "Or I don't eat anything."

Frank puts out his fist. He always chooses rock. I put out a flat palm – paper.

"I win," I mutter.

"I hate you. And paper, rock, scissors is not a good way to make important decisions," Frank says.

"Hi Doc, could you take a look at Joe?" Frank says into his cell phone. "He fell."

I lie on the bed with my eyes closed.

"Hey, stay awake until I know you don't have a head injury," Frank says. "How many fingers?"

"You have 10 fingers," I say with my eyes closed.

"Look, there's something I need to tell you," Frank says. "The hitman said he fired numerous kill shots at us, but they were all deflected. According to him, we should be dead. Do you know what happened?"

"Be strong and courageous," I whisper. "Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."*****

Frank pulls back the bedspread to cover me.

"How did you short sheet my bed? You can't even walk?" he asks.

"Super powers," I whisper.

*** See the stories written at the hardydetectiveagency online. Can't remember which story offhand. Sorry, but there are plenty of good ones.

**** Jesus Calling by Sarah Young

***** Joshua 1:9


	15. The Set Up

Thanks to God and Fluffy kitty 12 who inspires me to fight harder.

Hi everyone, I want to learn how to write better. If you have a scene you like or don't like, tell me what worked or didn't work for you. Thanks. God Bless.

Chapter 15

POV Frank

I messed up. Joe was the only one who sensed I was in trouble. My brother talked me off my psychological ledge, but he paid the cost. Seeing my brother collapse is something I will never forget.

Lying on my bed, Joe looks bad. He's pale, taking short breaths and gritting his teeth. All signs he is pain. Pain I caused. I called Dr. Tager, when Joe begged not to go to the hospital.

"You ok?" Joe asks and cracks open one blue eye.

Me ok?

"You look scared," Joe says.

Got to keep this light. I have to be strong for Joe.

"The only thing that scares me are your Christmas decorations," I say.

Joe loves Christmas…and decorating for Christmas. After Thanksgiving Joe considers it open season for Christmas decorating. Last year he hung lights on my condo fridge and my desk at work. Somehow he even triggered an annoying Christmas decoration to play "The 12 Days of Christmas" whenever I sat in my desk chair. Still haven't figured out how he did that…and it annoys me.

Joe even put a red Rudolph nose and brown fabric antlers on my black BMW. I was not amused. Joe claimed he was innocent. Fortunately, I got his prints off the Rudolph nose.

Last year, I hated Joe's Christmas decorating. This year I'd give anything if he was healthy enough to do any decorating vandalism.

"Hey, when you decorating for Christmas?" Joe asks.

Never.

Fox Haven only allows a green wreath with a red or gold bow on the front door. Other decorations are prohibited.

Since I don't decorate for Christmas, I don't care. But Joe will. He is the poster child for Christmas. Joe thinks I'm the Christmas Grinch, but he's wrong. I love Christmas.

My problem is Callie loved Christmas too. The holiday season brings back too many painful memories of the woman I still love. Unfortunately, she married someone else.

But it's not fair to ruin Christmas for Joe.

"Decorate anything you want," I say.

Seems like a safe offer, given Joe's current condition.

"Thanks," Joe whispers.

I grit my teeth picturing the gaudy inflatable sleigh with Santa that Joe loved. The thing even played music…out of tune. Losing that horrible decoration was the only good thing about Joe's beach cottage getting shot up. The bullets from the hitmen blew Joe's boxes of Christmas decorations to smithereens.

How much Christmas decorating can Joe do when he feels this bad?

"What happened?" Dad asks.

I can't find the words to explain. How can I tell him Joe sensed I was building another mental wall? That I was going to block everyone out, until Joe called me on it.

"D-dad?" Joe whispers.

"Right here," Dad says and puts his hand on Joe's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Ran into a wall," Joe says.

"Looks like the wall won," Dad says.

"Frank, who won? Me or the wall?" Joe asks.

"You," I say.

"You know son, you're starting to crimp my retirement," Dr. Tager says as he walks in with his black medicine bag.

"My bad," Joe says.

"So what part of bed rest didn't you understand? I thought it was self explainatory," Dr. Tager says as he takes out his stethoscope.

"Been resting for weeks," Joe says.

"Then you crashed a motorcycle," Dr. Tager says.

He listens to Joe's heart.

"Hey, they say any landing you can walk away from is a good one," Joe says.

"That's for planes," I say.

"I don't think your body agrees," Dr. Tager says. "I need two bags of frozen vegetables."

Dad goes downstairs.

Dr. Tager checks for broken bones. Joe winces and I step closer. Why did I let Joe talk me into calling this guy? X- rays would be so much more complete.

Dad returns with two bags of frozen peas. Dr. Tager puts one on Joe's shoulder and the other on his eye.

As Tager examines Joe's skull, I decide Joe is going to the hospital. No more medicine from the Old West. I only have one brother.

Doc takes out a small vial. He rolls it on the pillowcase by Joe. The smell of lavender floods my bedroom.

"I need some hot washcloths," Doc says.

I go to my master suite off the bedroom.

"Dizzy? Headache? Nauseous?" Doc asks.

"No. No hospital," Joe whispers.

I walk in with four hot washcloths.

Doc puts them on Joe's knee, arm, chest and forehead.

"Take these," Doc says and hands Joe two white pills.

I grab Doc's arm.

"Don't you need to know what medicines he is taking?" I ask.

"Anything you didn't write down on this list?" Doc asks. gc

I look at the list on my nightstand of Joe's medicines.

"No, that's everything," I say and let go of his arm.

"Good, I'm giving him Tylenol," Doc says.

Joe takes the pills and falls asleep.

"So you putting him on bed rest?" I ask.

"I told him to rest the last time I saw him," Doc says. "Didn't do much good."

Doc Tager and I walk into the hall. Dad stays with Joe.

"I want him checked over at the hospital," I say.

"He'll be in ER for hours. They'll take X-rays and blood tests. Then he'll be admitted," Doc says.

"Good," I say. "He'll get some rest."

"He'll be trapped in bed and his mind will go to the worst place it can," Doc says. "After my wife died, keeping busy was the only thing that kept me sane. But it's your decision."

I don't want Joe trapped in his worst memories.

"I'd rather have you watching him than the hospital," Doc says.

My Achilles heel. Nobody takes care of Joe as good as me.

"I'll drop in every morning around 8 am and at night around 7 pm," Doc says.

"If anything happens to him, it's on you," I say.

"OK, just one question," Doc says. "What was he doing upstairs? Climbing those stairs set him back."

Before I can answer, Dad interrupts.

"Frank, can I see you a minute?" Dad asks.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Doc says.

"You ok?" Dad asks when we are alone in the hall.

"I'm not the one who got hurt," I say.

Dad waits for me to say something. I wait back.

Then it pops out.

"I don't want the award," I say in a quick rush.

"Why?" Dad asks.

"Didn't do anything last year that deserved an award," I say thinking of my depression and the way I froze out everybody.

"But a committee of 14 detectives disagrees," Dad says. "They chose you for the award."

Silence. This time I have nothing to say.

"Frank, I know you're disappointed in how you handled last year," Dad says. "But you were depressed."

"I buried myself in work so I could forget about Callie," I say.

"Did it work?" Dad asks.

"Yes. I know I locked everybody out. Working with me was like working with a machine. But it kept me sane," I say.

"So why did you stop?" Dad asks.

"Joe needed me," I whisper. "I realized how much I hurt him."

"We're not that different, Frank," Dad says. "After Iola died, I spent every minute working cases. I stopped when Sam got shot. And Laura started talking about getting a divorce."

I stare at Dad.

"That's the year I won the award Frank," Dad says. "The year Iola died, Sam got shot and your mom threatened to get a divorce."

My mouth falls open.

"I never felt I deserved the award either," Dad says. "But your mother and Sam made me accept it. I promised myself I'd never risk everyone I cared about by making work my life."

Dad's cell phone rings.

"Hardy," he growls. "All the beach cottage plumbing has to be replaced with plastic piping for $20,000! Get a second opinion!"

As Dad goes downstairs shouting into his phone, I check on Joe.

"Frank, sorry to bother you," Sam says. "Con needs you at Police headquarters."

I run my hand through my hair. I don't want to leave Joe. But we have to catch Staris before he kills one of us.

"I'll keep an eye on Joe," Sam says.

I head back to my home office. I stare at the mess of broken table and computer parts. I shut my briefcase as I mentally figure out the new computer parts I need to buy.

Bats follows me down the stairs. He hisses and claws at me as I get my winter coat out of the closet.

We have to find a home for those cats.

POV JOE

Everything hurts. I lift my head off the pillow.

"Easy Joe," Sam says. "You need anything?"

"A new body," I say.

Sam laughs.

"Where is everybody?"

"Your dad had to work on something. Con wanted Frank at police headquarters."

"Hey, are you reading the newspaper?" I ask.

"Yes, you want the Sports section?" Sam asks.

"No. Are any decent apartments for rent?" I ask.

Frank can swing a $700,000 condo. Me, not so much. Before Sam answers, the doorbell rings.

Sam looks at his computer monitor.

"It's the women from the cleaning service," he says.

"That's great," I say. "I need a favor."

When Barb and Miranda walk in, I'm ready.

"How are you Joe?" Barb asks.

"Hanging in. Hey, where does Frank keep his Christmas tree and decorations?" I ask.

"He doesn't have any," Miranda says.

"Figures," I say. "My brother, the Grinch. If I give you $500, can you buy a tree and decorations?"

"Sure. What kind?" Barb asks.

"Martha Stewart for Frank," I say. "Anything that'll annoy Frank for me."

"Sounds easy," Miranda says. "We just stopped by to give Frank our cleaning schedule for next month. We'll be back in an hour."

"Thanks," I say and fight a yawn. I fall asleep smiling. Christmas is coming - as soon as Barb and Miranda return.

POV Frank

I sit in Con's office at Bayport Police Headquarters, waiting for Harrison, my least favorite officer. He is twenty minutes late.

"Sorry about Harrison, Frank. He's got an attitude problem. He graduated with the highest marks in the history of the Police Academy," Con says. "I'm hoping he'll decide to transfer somewhere far away….soon."

Before I can answer, Harrison arrives. He doesn't apologize.

"You needed me for the Staris report," Harrison says.

"Yes, I need to tape an interview about the Staris escape," Con says. He presses a button on the tape recorder on his desk. "One pm, Dec 20th. Interview with Frank Hardy and Officer Harrison about the Staris escape."

Harrison sneezes loudly.

"God bless you," I say.

Harrison ignores me.

"Frank, can you…." Con says.

"ACHOOO!" Harrison sneezes.

"Are you ok?" I ask.

"Yes, I just…ACHOO!" Harrison sneezes.

"Harrison, what's going on?" Con asks. "Are you crying?"

"No, my eyes are watering," Harrison says.

"You allergic to anything?" Con asks.

"Cats," Harrison says.

I open my briefcase to get Harrison a Kleenex. Tang pops out.

I will kill Joe for this.

"You brought a cat?" Harrison asks.

"I…uh…" I can't think of how to explain. But now I understand why Bats was so upset when I left.

"I'm leaving," Harrison says as he sneezes again.

"I didn't know you had a cat, Frank," Con says. He shuts off the recorder.

"I don't," I say, through grit teeth. "Joe does."

Tang digs into my business papers with his claws.

"What is he doing?" Con asks.

A moment later, Tang leaves a sizeable deposit in my briefcase. Con laughs so hard he can't talk. I put the cat in my coat pocket – head poking out. With as much dignity as I can muster, I close my briefcase and leave. Con's laughter echoes behind me.

POV JOE

When I open my eyes, two hours have passed according to the clock on Frank's nightstand.

I get up slowly and head to the bathroom.

Then I make my way cautiously downstairs. Frank's elegant gray and white living room is gone. Barb and Miranda have decorated a real Christmas tree. The tree fills the center of the room. I breathe in the scent of real pine and scented pinecones. On a side table sits the nativity scene, with baby Jesus in a manger. When I was a kid, I always wondered why the animals in the manger didn't eat him.

An evergreen garland hangs across the fireplace. Real boughs of pine decorate the mantle. Looks like the place fell out of a magazine, except for the howling coming from the hall closet.

I open the closet. Bats runs out and hisses at me.

"Yeah, good to see you too," I say.

The front door opens and Dad walks in.

"Joe? How are you feeling?" Dad asks.

Crap. Dad's here. Ever since Iola died, things have been weird between us. I feel like he's disappointed I'm not Frank. Honestly, sometimes I'm disappointed, I'm not Frank.

"Joe?" Dad asks.

"Yeah, I'm good," I say.

"Wow, Frank's condo looks like something out of a Christmas TV special," Dad says.

And awkward silence. God, I could use a little help here.

I spot a cloth angel sitting on the table next to the Christmas tree.

"Dad, could you put the angel on the tree?" I ask.

I remember Dad helping me put the angel on the tree when I was three. Then I took it off again so Frank could do it.

"Sure," Dad says.

He reaches up and puts the angel on the tree.

The peace of the moment surrounds us.

"Got some good news," Dad says. "Physical therapy starts today at 4 pm."

"Cool," I say.

I've done physical therapy before. I hate it, but I have to get my body back. Bedrest is killing me. Too much time for my mind to go scary places.

And I've got major cabin fever. Maybe I can sneak in some Christmas shopping.

"Joe, I'm sorry," Dad says. "I was wrong. I didn't realize you bought the beach cottage because of Iola. If I knew, I would have backed you."

I nervously lick my lips. Iola is something we never talk about. Her death haunts me. After Iola died, Dad disappeared. Maybe he blames me?

"And I wish after Iola died, I'd been around more to help you," Dad says.

Yeah, me too. But detectives have to travel to solve cases.

"After Iola died, I felt guilty," Dad whispers.

Dad? Guilty?

"I should have saved her," Dad whispers.

"Dad, you weren't even there when it happened," I say.

"People put a bomb on my car because I was a detective," Dad says. "That's my fault."

"Dad, you don't understand," I say. I feel the familiar pain in my chest as I drag out the story again.

"I was flirting with another girl. Iola got mad. She walked to the car. I ran after her, but the car blew up before I reached her," I say. My eyes are closed as I picture the scene.

Sometimes I get scared if I think about it too much, Iola's death will eat me alive. Like a prison I can't escape.

"Joe, it wasn't your fault," Dad says. He puts his hand on my shoulder.

"You disappeared after she died, I figured maybe you knew it was my fault too," I whisper.

"No, never," Dad says. Before I know what's happening, Dad has me in a bear hug.

"I left because every time I saw you, my guilt ate me alive," Dad whispers. "I worried you'd hate me."

"Hate you? Dad, you and Frank are who I want to be," I whisper.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Dad says. "But I can't fix it."

"You just did," I say.

The front door opens. Frank walks in. Bats runs to him. Frank lifts Tang out of his gray winter wool coat front pocket.

Bats licks Tang. Tang goes over to the food bowl and chows down.

"Sooo, you and Tang needed some quality time?" I ask.

"No," Frank says as he hangs his coat in the closet. "Tang fell asleep in my briefcase. I found him when I got to police headquarters."

"Wow, Frank. There's no excuse for that," I say. "You're a detective. What kind of observational skills do you have?"

"I observed Tang leaving a 'present' in my briefcase," Frank says. "And I observed Harrison has a severe allergy to cats."

"How severe?" Dad asks.

"He was sneezing, his eyes watered and I think he was breaking out in hives when he left the office," Frank says.

"That's great," Dad says and claps Frank on the shoulder.

Joe laughs. I smile. It is good news, even though it shouldn't be.

"What happened in here?" Frank asks.

"You said I could decorate," I say.

"How in the world did you get a tree, decorate it and trash my front yard?" Frank asks.

"Front yard?" I ask.

Frank opens the front door. Outside I see a blow up Santa on a tractor loaded with gifts.

I smile.

Until Greene bumps into me.

"You are violating the HOA Christmas decoration regulations!" Greene shouts.

He jabs me in the chest.

POV FRANK

Nobody touches my brother. Nobody.

I step between Joe and Greene.

"Here's your eviction notice and a violation notice for the Christmas decorations!" Greene shouts. He hands me two forms – one red and one green. At least the colors are Christmassy.

"Wait! This is my fault!" Joe says. "I didn't realize you had rules about decorations."

"It doesn't matter," Greene says. "You're out!"

"Good," I say. "I'm tired of living with so many rules. If you have time to decide what color the bow on my wreath should be, your life must be pretty empty. My lawyer will be in touch."

I slam the door.

"Joe has a physical therapy appointment in thirty minutes," Dad says.

I nod and speed dial a number on my cell phone.

"Marlow, I need you to represent me to the Fox Haven HOA," I say into my cell phone. "Take no prisoners."

"Who's Marlow?" Joe asks.

"My racquetball partner and the best attorney in the city. He's going through a rough divorce. Marlow has a lot of anger right now. This will be a good place for him to use it," I say.

One hour later, Joe's first session of physical therapy is done. I have a list of exercises for Joe to do at home.

Joe looks tired, sweaty and in pain.

My only job is to get Joe home.

"How you doing?" I ask.

"Never get a massage from someone named Thor," Joe says.

I laugh.

My cell phone rings.

"Hardy," I say.

"Look in the glove compartment or your dad dies," a voice whispers.

I pull over.

I open the glove compartment and find Dad's bloody wedding ring in a baggie.

"If you want to see him alive, come to the old Grady warehouse now. I'm watching you. Call anybody or stop anywhere and your dad dies."


	16. When Push Comes to Shove

Chapter 16

Thanks to God and Fluffykitty12.

JOE POV

I hold Dad's bloody wedding ring as Frank drives. Who has Dad? Is he hurt? Is he alive?

Frank parks by a condemned warehouse near the docks. Looks like something out of a horror movie. Graffiti covers the crumbling brick building. Someone wrote, "Stars Never Fade," in black spray paint.

Every window looks broken. Broken. That's how I feel. My body is a mess. I'm not healthy enough to be anyone's partner. Worried if I go inside, I'll be one thing Frank has to take care of – and we don't know Dad's condition. What if Frank has to choose between saving Dad or me?

I open the BMW door and swallow a groan. Everything hurts. Never have I felt less worthy of the name 'Hardy.' Do I offer to sit this one out? What if Frank gets hurt cuz I'm out here instead of watching his back?

Frank's phone rings.

"Tenth floor. Both of you. Leave your guns and phones in the car. I'm watching. Five minutes or Daddy dies."

And the decision is made for me. I have to go. No matter how unprepared I feel.

I lock our guns and Frank's phone in the glove compartment. When Frank gets out of the car, I palm my phone and put it in my pocket. My phone may be the only help I can give Frank.

When I get out of the car, my right knee buckles.

FRANK POV

When Joe's knee gives out, I grab him before he falls.

I throw Joe over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. It's the only way I can get us to the tenth floor in time.

Dad taught us to always notice escape routes. Unfortunately, I'm too out of breath to notice much.

My soul feels heavy. Why didn't I leave Joe in the car? Because I didn't have a choice.

JOE POV

My body is not happy being slung over Frank's shoulder. How can Frank haul us up ten flights of crumbling stairs in five minutes?

I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing. Anything to escape the pain. Frank slows down. I crack open an eye and see the top of a staircase.

Frank breathes heavy. When he climbs the last stair, something hard slams into us.

I feel a sharp pain in my back. Frank collapses on the dirty, wooden floor. Looking up, I see Staris and a stranger.

Both point guns at us. Blood gushes from Frank's skull. Not good. I press my hand against Frank's head to slow the bleeding. My brother's pupils are dilated. Crap. He has a concussion.

No idea how I'm getting Frank out of here alive or Dad.

"D-dad?" Frank slurs.

"The wedding ring was a fake," the stranger says. "Just a way to get you here."

"Mr. Ocalis paid me to get you both here, unharmed," Staris says.

"Who are you?" I ask the stranger.

"I'm Matt Silaoc. Frank, I'm surprised you didn't unscramble my last name. You killed my brother. I've come to even the score."

FRANK POV

Silaoc. A nightmare from the past.

Through blurry vision, I see Silaoc nod at Joe.

Staris grabs Joe and points a gun at his head.

"Why don't you tell Joe what happened?" Silaoc says as he lights a cigar. "Make sure you don't leave anything out."

I swallow hard and lick my lips.

How do I tell Joe about the day I've spent the last four years of my life trying to forget?

Will Joe want to work with me after he knows what I did?

The cold, hard truth is I have no choice. If baring my soul keeps Joe alive, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

"You were in your last year of college," I mutter. "I needed to keep busy for a year. So I joined the DEA."

Truth was I didn't want to hold Joe back. Pro scouts were in the stands watching Joe play college ball. If Joe turned pro, I needed a backup plan. So I joined the Drug Enforcement Agency – a decision I regret every day of my life.

"Frank, you're wasting my time," Silaoc says. He backhands Joe across the face. Blood runs from Joe's nose.

I swallow hard.

"I went deep undercover and infiltrated the Silaoc family drug cartel," I say.

The words come out in a rush. I feel sick saying them. Tony Silaoc was my friend. And my target. Now he's dead.

"Frank, you're telling it wrong," Silaoc says. He takes a knife and holds it at Joe's throat. "Tony was my baby brother. He trusted Frank. Trusted him so much, he shared every detail of our family business."

He lightly cuts Joe's neck. Silaoc wipes his fingers in Joe's blood.

"You set us up Frank," Silaoc says, as he wipes Joe's blood on my face.

"You are covered in blood, Frank. The blood of my brother," Silaoc says. "And soon the blood of yours."

"So the story doesn't have a happy ending," Joe says.

I realize Joe's distracting Silaoc from hurting me.

"Finish it, Frank," Silaoc says. He walks to Joe.

I lick my lips and try to stall for time. So much happened. Any of it could set Silaoc off. What if he kills Joe?

"Frank, I need to hear words coming from your mouth," Silaoc says. He punches Joe in the ribs. Joe falls to the floor. "Talk or I kill him."

So I babble, unable to edit my thoughts. Everything comes out.

"Tony said he felt trapped in his family. I knew how he felt. Sometimes I felt trapped in mine...I pushed hard to get Tony full immunity. My superiors finally agreed. But I wasn't authorized to tell Tony until after the takedown," I say.

I remember the November day, Tony and I played tennis at his family's mansion. Armed DEA agents surrounded us.

"Frank, you are quiet," Silaoc says as kicks Joe in his bad leg. Joe groans and falls to the floor.

I force myself to concentrate and speak. Joe's life depends on it.

"Everything went according to plan, until Tony grabbed a rookie DEA agent. He held a gun to her throat," I say. "I was the only one close enough to see Tony's hands shaking. I broke my cover."

Why is it so hard to concentrate? Hard to put my sentences together. Concussion or panic?

"When I told Tony, I was DEA, he almost dropped the gun," I say. "I told him if he turned state's evidence, he'd get full immunity."

Silaoc walks across the room, while Staris holds Joe.

I remember the stunned look on Tony's face. Like his best friend had betrayed him. And I had.

"Tony treated you like a brother! He even stood up to Dad for you! He demanded Dad let you have access to everything!" Silaoc shouts.

JOE POV

Things are going south. No way are we getting out of here alive. But maybe, Frank will.

As soon as Silaoc said he didn't have Dad, I hit my speed dial. Number four is set to 911. Since I'm about 30% of a partner, I need all the help I can get. I don't go anywhere without my phone.

Frank turned pale when he saw Silaoc. A piece of the puzzle fell into place.

After working for the DEA, Frank was different…harder to reach. I thought maybe he didn't want to work with me – a dumb jock. I'd been offered a lot of money to play pro ball. But after Iola died, I didn't see the point. Even a seal can put a ball through a hoop. I wanted to make a difference.

FRANK POV

"I offered Tony a deal," I whisper.

The hurt in Tony's eyes still haunts me.

He was my friend, even if we were from two different worlds.

Part of me hoped Joe did play pro basketball. Maybe I'd just disappear. Maybe I could figure out who I was if my last name wasn't Hardy.

For a minute, I saw relief in Tony's eyes. Like he'd found a way out of his family.

Then some DEA agents, dragged Tony's brother away in cuffs.

"You told Tony if he talked it would kill his parents," I say to Silaoc.

And the look of hope faded in Tony's eyes. Silaoc killed his brother, but I pulled the trigger.

"I told Tony we could fake his death. But he wouldn't go for it," I said.

Tony couldn't handle prison. We both knew it. It's the reason I fought so hard to get him full immunity.

Silaoc nods at Staris. Staris tightens his arm around Joe's neck. Joe struggles to breathe.

"Frank, I want to hear your thoughts or he dies," Silaoc growls.

"Tony looked at me and started to pull the trigger on the DEA agent," I say in a dull monotone. "I fired a kill shot. Tony was dead when he hit the ground."

"You killed my brother!" Silaoc shouts. "I'm going to kill yours!"

"Kill him!" Silaoc screams at Staris.

"Any last words?" Staris asks Joe.

I try to get to my feet, but my body won't listen. Walking, even crawling is beyond me. My body won't obey my mind.

JOE POV

"Any last words?" Staris asks.

I send up a silent arrow prayer.** _God, help me get Frank out of here. Not me, just Frank. _

A line from Iola's Bible flashes into my mind. "Remember the Lord . . . and fight," I whisper. ***

I relax for a split second. When Staris' grip around my neck loosens, I grab his arm, aim at Silaoc's leg and fire the gun in Staris' grip.

Silaoc hits the floor as my bullet finds its mark. The lit cigar in Silaoc's mouth ignites a piece of paper. Flames race across the floor. Flames leap from one piece of trash to the next.

Staris grabs the gun and runs to Silaoc.

"Where's my money? You promised me the number code to access the Swiss bank account!" Staris shouts.

While Staris is distracted, I crawl over to Frank. I've got to get him out of here before the whole place goes up in flames. Fire blocks off the stairs – our only escape route.

"Frank?" I ask.

Frank struggles to focus. Sirens and flashing lights grow louder and closer.

I drag Frank to the window. We stay low to avoid the smoke.

Below firemen are getting out hoses. The smoke in my lungs makes shouting impossible. I mouth a prayer and toss a rock out the window. It lands inches from a fireman. He looks up and sees us.

"We need a life net, STAT!" he shouts.

FRANK POV

My eyes water as I struggle to breathe. What if the fire gets to us before the life net is ready?

"Should have left you in the car," I whisper to Joe.

"No choice," Joe says and coughs.

Either I'm seeing double or Joe has become twins. I close my watering eyes.

I have to explain about shooting Tony.

I open my mouth as a fireman shouts, "We're ready!"

"You first," I say through a coughing fit.

"No way. See you in five," Joe says and smiles. "I've been wanting to push you out of a window for years."

Joe shoves me through the broken window. I feel myself falling through the hot, smoky air. I land hard in the life net. Firemen drag me to the side.

I look up and see Joe and silhouetted in the window ten floors up. Smoke and flames pour out of the windows on either side of him.

"All clear!" a fireman shouts.

Joe pushes an unconscious Silaoc out of the window. He falls into the life net.

Before Joe can jump, an arm drags him from the window. Staris jumps as the building explodes.

Joe is dead. I killed him. Just like I killed Tony.

** "Arrow prayers, flash prayers, bullet prayers…and missile prayers, hurry prayers, and microwave prayers. All these are quick prayers said (or thought) at a moment's notice." I actually found arrow prayers first in The New Student Bible.

"Nehemiah characteristically prayed to God while he went about his duties. He even "shot an arrow" to God, silently asking God for help in the middle of a crucial conversation with the king." The New Student Bible, New International Version, Nehemiah book, note on page 442 re: Arrow Prayers.

*** The New Student Bible, New International Version, Zondervan Publishing House, 1992, pg. 444. Actual quote in notes is "Remember the Lord…and fight."


	17. The Shadow of Death

Chapter 17 The Shadow of Death

Thanks to my mom for her real drowning story and the loving place she felt that day and still remembers.

Sorry for the delay, I've had some health problems. God is working things out.

POV FRANK

Joe pushes an unconscious Silaoc out of the window. I hold my breath as Silaoc falls into the life net.

Before Joe jumps, an arm drags him from the window. Staris jumps as the building explodes.

Joe is dead. I killed him. Just like I killed Tony.

"Pull back!" the Fire Chief shouts.

A paramedic tries to move me back. I knock him out with one punch. I run to the flames. I'm inches from the fire when someone grabs my shoulder. I'm caught off balance and fall.

I'm lifted in a fireman's carry. Before I can free myself the building explodes again. We're blown yards from the inferno.

Who kept me from saving Joe? I will kill him. I open my eyes and see … Dad.

I lift my hand to punch him. Sam catches my fist. Another explosion rocks the street.

I want to fight. I've got to get Joe. But my world turns dark.

FRANK THREE HOURS LATER

"He's got a concussion and two broken ribs," Sam says. "Doctor said he should regain consciousness any time. He'll make it."

That explains my pounding headache and why my chest feels like it's breaking apart every time I breathe. I'm too tired to open my eyes.

The beep of monitors and the steady push of oxygen into my lungs tell me I'm in the hospital.

"I almost lost him," Dad says. "If you hadn't helped me pull him back from that burning building…"

"We got him," Sam says.

"I'm scared," Dad says.

Dad scared of anything is a new concept.

"Scared I'll lose him too," Dad whispers.

Too? What else did Dad lose?

Joe loses things. Last year he lost the keys to his Mustang. Somehow they ended up in his freezer. Every time Joe loses anything, I ask, "Did you check your freezer?" It drives him nuts. Which is why I do it.

Where is Joe?

"He'll never forgive me," Dad says.

"You saved his life," Sam says.

"He won't see it that way," Dad says.

He sounds scared. What could scare Dad?

My head pounds with every breath. I stop fighting the darkness.

FRANK SIX HOURS LATER

I force open one eye. Sam sits by my bed, asleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair. I groan as the room tilts.

"Frank?" Sam whispers as he wakes.

"Joe?" I ask.

Talking hurts. I inhaled too much smoke.

"What do you remember?" Sam asks.

"Fire," I croak.

"You and Joe were trapped inside," Sam says.

"Joe?" I whisper.

Sam won't meet my eyes.

"I went back for Joe. Someone stopped me," I whisper.

"Me and your Dad," Sam says.

"I could have saved him," I mutter.

"Frank, listen. You weren't going to save Joe. You were going to get yourself killed. If you want to blame someone, blame me. I was the one who saw you running toward the fire. Your dad just outran me," Sam says.

"Joe?" I ask.

"The building is unstable. Crews can't search it," Sam says.

"How long?" I ask.

"Eight hours," Sam says.

His eyes tell me Joe is dead.

The logical part of me knows this. But I want my brother.

A canvas duffel bag sits on the floor.

"I picked up a few things from your condo," Sam says.

"Dad?" I whisper.

"He's making arrangements," Sam says.

Arrangements for Joe's funeral.

I have to get out of here. Joe hates – hated hospitals.

"Out," I whisper hoping Sam understands.

"Dr. Snyder wants to keep you here for a week. I knew you wouldn't stay," Sam says as he unzips the duffel bag.

Sam helps me pull a black baggy t-shirt over my head. My arms are covered with scrapes and burns.

I pull on a pair of black sweatpants inch by agonizing inch. Sam puts on my socks and sneakers.

Dad pushes a wheelchair into my hospital room.

I have nothing to say to Dad. Nurse Doyle pushes my wheelchair out of the hospital. She gives

instructions, but my head is pounding too hard to hear.

Sam pulls his brown Buick up to the hospital entrance. Dad helps me into the backseat of Sam's car. I tolerate him because I can't do it alone. Dad climbs in the front passenger seat and buckles up. Sam drives off.

I am an outsider.

Dad and Sam are partners. My partner died saving my life. From now on I work alone. I don't trust myself to watch anyone's back. Not after Joe.

Sam drives by the still smoldering building site. Through the rain, I see piles of brick blackened with smoke and soot. Parts of the building are still smoking. From the debris I can tell Joe is dead. No way could anyone survive what I'm seeing.

We pull up to the church. Dad and Sam help me inside.

I see a gold casket. A framed picture of Joe sits on top. It's real. I'm an only child.

Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. I move away so his hand falls off.

Raw anger surfaces.

"Why did you stop me?" I ask.

"Sam, could you get us some water?" Dad asks.

"No, I'm staying," Sam says. "I told Frank I was the one who spotted him running into the burning building. I'll take the blame."

"Must be nice to have a partner who has your back," I say to Dad. "I'd have a partner if you hadn't stopped me."

Dad kept me from saving Joe. He put me in this hell.

"Frank, you would have been killed," Sam says.

"Maybe I didn't want to be saved," I whisper.

"Joe wouldn't have wanted that," Sam says.

He's right. Joe dragged me to a window and pushed me out. He couldn't walk in the parking lot. How did Joe save my life? How did I let him die?

Dad's phone rings.

"Hardy," he growls.

Dad's face falls as he listens.

"No, I can't go," Dad says. "You don't understand. My son is dead."

Dad hits the off button on his phone.

"I could have saved him," I whisper.

"No," Sam says. "You could have thrown your life away after Joe died saving you."

"My choice," I say. "You shouldn't have stopped me."

I'm talking to Dad, but Sam gets between us.

"Frank, you're angry. I get that. Joe's dead. But you don't get to take it out on the person who saved your life," Sam says.

"This is family business, Sam. Stay out of it," I whisper.

"Not when you're taking blows at my partner," Sam says.

Con Riley appears at the door.

"Fenton, I'm sorry to interrupt but Interpol wants to speak with you," Con says. "They ordered me to find you."

"Con, I'm waiting for news on Joe," Fenton says.

"I'm sorry, but I've got my orders," Con says. "If you refuse, I'm supposed to take you into custody."

"Go ahead Fenton," Sam says. "I'll stay with Frank."

"He's right," I say. "I'm used to you disappearing. I wish you'd disappeared at the fire."

Pain flashes in Dad's eyes.

"Frank, he doesn't have a choice," Sam growls.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Dad says.

"We'll be here, Fenton," Sam says.

Dad and Con leave.

I'm not surprised. Except usually when Dad was gone, Joe was here.

I feel alone and empty.

Sam's phone rings.

"Radley," he growls. "I see."

He disconnects.

"That was the fire captain. They recovered Joe's body," Sam says.

"I want to see him," I whisper.

"Frank, there isn't enough left to see. The explosions didn't leave much," Sam says.

"I want to see him," I repeat.

"And I want to make sure you remember Joe as your brother, not a collection of body parts," Sam says.

"Joe's gone. I'll never see him again," I whisper.

Emptiness fills me.

"Frank, is that what you believe?" Sam whispers.

Science is my god. I believe in logic. Cold, hard facts. Like Joe is gone forever.

"Frank, when I was a kid there was a dam near my house. I played in the water a lot. One day a big kid named Jimmy bought his canoe. I wanted to show off so I hung on the side of the boat," Sam says. "Jimmy told me to let go, but I wouldn't. Jimmy paddled out to the middle of the dam."

Sam looks away for a minute. He bites his lip.

"I couldn't swim. But I was scared to get any further away from the shore. So I let go. I kicked my legs, but I sunk like a stone. I kept going underwater and coming up. I'd try to grab a breath, before I sunk. Finally, I didn't come up," Sam says in a soft voice.

"I sank like a stone. And…I still remember …I felt this incredible love. Frank, I was in another place. A better place. A place I didn't want to leave," Sam says.

I can't think of anything to say.

"I think Joe is there. He's with Iola," Sam says. "He's happy. You'll see him again."

Could it be real? Does God exist? I want to believe Sam, but I can't.

I close my eyes. I take a calming breath. Nothing helps.

I need proof. Scientific proof.

I close my eyes and try to pray.

_You want me to believe. You raised Your son from the dead. Give me back Joe. Then we'll talk._

POV JOE

Cold. Wet. Where am I? I splash against the dark water of the harbor.

My legs and arms are too numb to move. I start to sink, but my feet touch bottom.

I stagger to shore and collapse.

My head hurts. My ears ring. What happened?

I have no idea. I shiver in the cold, night air.

Who am I?

I'm terrified when I can't answer.

I smell smoke. Squinting I see a small campfire five feet away.

Rocks tear my skin as I pull myself to the fire.

I collapse as I feel it's warmth.

"Hey, this is my fire," someone says.

I squint. A blurry male in torn jeans and a ripped jacket comes into focus.

"You want to share my fire? You got to pay," the raspy voice says.

I feel hands frisk me.

"No ID or wallet," the voice says. "But you got a watch. That'll do for now."

I feel him slide something off my wrist before I black out.


	18. Aftermath

Chap 18 The Aftermath

With thanks to God.

POV Frank

"We've got to leave," Sam says. "They're locking up the church for the night."

Part of me doesn't want to leave Joe alone. Even though I know he's not in the casket.

"He's not here, Frank," Sam says.

Sam drives to my condo.

I unlock the door and stumble inside.

My ribs hurt but I force myself to climb the stairs. Joe's room is – was – at the end of the room.

Tang is asleep on Joe's bed. Bats sits by side keeping watch.

"I hope you do a better job than me," I whisper.

Clothes are strewn on the floor.

Joe's hairbrush lies on the floor. A few blond hairs are caught between the bristles. I grab the hairbrush. This is all I have left of Joe.

I killed him. I let him die. Just like Tony.

A framed picture of Iola sits on Joe's nightstand. Is he really with her? Or is he just gone?

"Frank?" Sam says.

I hide the hairbrush behind my back like a two-year-old.

"You still here?" I ask.

"Thought I'd spend the night," Sam says.

"I'm fine, Sam. I need to get used to being alone," I say.

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"Dad is gone a lot. You guys are partners, so you'll be gone a lot. My partner is dead," I say.

I can't believe I said Joe is dead.

I feel like throwing up.

"We'll all work together, Frank," Sam says.

"I don't want to do this without Joe," I whisper. And it's true. I have no idea what I want to do. Something that keeps me so busy I can forget Joe is dead.

"Any word from Dad?" I ask.

"Not yet," Sam says.

"Not surprised," I say.

The room shifts. I lean against the wall. Sam grabs my arm.

"Easy," Sam says. "When's the last time you ate?"

"Don't know," I whisper.

Sam helps me to my room. He sits me on my bed and takes off my shoes.

"Lie down," Sam says. "I'm going to get you some soup."

I fall on my bed. My ribs protest and I groan. Joe's hairbrush is still in my hand. I stow it under my pillow.

Feels like I'm in an episode of some science fiction movie. Joe's not dead. He's just out at the beach. Or helping Dad with a case. Or working on his Mustang.

The lies make me feel better. Because if Joe is gone, there's no one to pull me back when I bury myself in work. No one to help when my depression takes over my life. Like it did after Callie left. No one to save me. I'm walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls without a net.

"Eat," Sam says as he puts a tray on my bed. A look at the bowl of tomato soup. My stomach churns.

"I brought Joe's Bible. Thought you might want to pick out the funeral readings," Sam says.

Sam pages through Joe's Bible. Passages are highlighted. Notes are scribbled in the margins. Joe believed, why can't I?

Joe didn't talk about religion with me. He knew I didn't believe. I think Joe struggled to believe after Iola died.

But the Bible was one of my textbooks in a college Humanites course.

I'm mad at Sam. Mad at Dad for disappearing. Mad at Joe for dying.

"How about Psalm 22. 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?'" I say.

I feel like God has given up on me.

"Jesus said that when he was dying," Sam says as he jots it on paper. "But the psalm ends with "For He has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; He has not hidden His face from him, but has listened to his cry for help," Sam says.

"He hasn't heard me or Joe would still be here," I say.

"Frank…" Sam says.

"Psalm 38 'For I am about to fall and my pain is ever with me," I say.

I feel like my depression will swallow me up. And without Joe I don't know how I'll crawl out of it. After Callie left I was depressed for a year. Somehow Joe got me out of it, but now I am trapped.

I eat the soup and keep it down because I want Sam to leave.

"Psalm 31…'I have become like broken pottery….there is terror on every side," I whisper.

My eyes start to close. I'm too wired to sleep. I'm too scared to sleep. I don't want to dream about Joe being dead.

"Rest Frank," Sam says as he takes the tray off my bed.

"You drugged the soup?" I whisper.

"You need sleep," Sam says. "I'll be right here. If you have a dream, I'll wake you."

I try to keep my eyes open, but they close.

POV JOE

How can I be freezing and burning up at the same time? I shiver as I wipe off sweat from my forehead. I open my eyes. Thirsty.

"Water," I whisper.

"Get your own," someone says and laughs.

"Griff, why did you bring him here?" someone whines.

No answer.

Someone shoves a bottle of water in my mouth. I drink greedily. Nothing has ever tasted this good.

A smelly blanket is tossed over me.

"Geez, Griff why do you care about him?" someone asks.

"Now you owe me for the water and the blanket," Griff says.

"Who are you?" I whisper. My head pounds. "Who am I?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Griff asks.

"Campfire," I whisper.

Griff smiles….a scary smile.

"I saved you. You drank too much. Then you fell in Barmet Bay. I got you back on land, warmed up and brought you here," Griff says.

I don't feel hung over, but the rest of the story makes sense. I ache all over. I close my eyes to stop the room from spinning.

"Who are you?" I whisper.

"I'm your big brother, Griff."

Brother. The word comforts me. I feel better.

"Who am I?" I ask.

But my eyes close before he answers.


	19. Living With Death

Chapter 19

Dedicated to God and Fluffykitty12

POV Frank

I am surrounded by fire. I lie on the wooden floor…too weak to move. The flames are inches away. I feel their heat. I close my eyes. I am going to burn to death.

Someone drags me to my feet. Joe. He struggles to pull me to the window.

Through the smoke, Joe leans me and him against the wall.

"I'll see you in five," Joe says.

I try to grab Joe … to make him jump with me. But I miss.

I land in a life net. The building explodes. Joe is dead.

"NO!" I shout.

"Easy Frank, it's just a dream," Sam says.

But the truth is, my nightmare happened. Joe died saving my life.

I open my eyes. Sam sits by my bed typing on his computer.

"Do you want to read Joe's obituary?" Sam asks. He hands me his computer.

Joseph Paul Hardy, 26, died suddenly last night. He is survived by an older brother (Frank), and his father (Fenton).

He earned a bachelor's degree in criminal justice from New York University. Joseph was the team captain of the college basketball team. He enjoyed sports, outdoors, his family and living life to the fullest.

I swallow hard and hand the computer back to Sam.

The truth is no way can Joe be reduced to a few paragraphs. It's as impossible as living without Joe.

"Any ideas for memorials?" Sam asks. "I don't think Joe would want flowers."

"Iola Morton Scholarship Fund or the Youth At Risk Mentoring Program," I whisper.

"Thanks," Sam says. "I've got coffee and Tylenol for you. What do you want for breakfast?"

I close my eyes. I don't have the energy. Sam is back in five minutes with a breakfast tray.

"Tell you what, you eat something and take the Tylenol," Sam says. "And I'll tell you something you don't know about Joe."

Curious, I swallow the pills with some water. I force myself to take a bite of toast.

"You and your dad were out of town working on the Petersen case," Sam says.

I nod. A kidnapping. We rescued the Thomas, the 16-year-old victim. His kidnappers were his teacher and his uncle. Both are serving are a long prison term.

"I knew something weird was going on when Joe knocked on my door," Sam says.

I understand. Joe never knocked. He was always too excited to knock. Joe's habit drove Dad crazy. But Dad never broke Joe of barging into offices. Once Joe caught me kissing Callie – before we broke up. Joe turned red and promised he'd knock next time. He didn't.

I force myself to take another bite of toast.

"Anyway he knocked," Sam says. "And he shut the door behind him and sat down."

I smile. Joe never sat or rested anywhere. He was in constant motion. Foot tapping, finger pounding motion. Joe was only still when he slept. Usually he paced in the office. Or he would sit on the corner of my desk, but never a chair. Joe had too much energy.

"He wasn't acting like Joe. Then he slid an envelope across my desk," Sam says.

Sam swallows hard and closes his eyes.

I wait wondering what happened. Usually Sam is pretty stoic, but whatever Joe did shook Sam up.

"He said, "When something happens to me, give this to Frank,'" Sam whispers. "Then he left. I put the letter in my wallet and tried to forget about it."

I swallow hard. After Iola died I was terrified Joe would give up. That I'd got a call one night that Joe was dead.

"Do you have the letter?" Sam asks.

"Wallet," I whisper.

Sam grabs my wallet off my dresser. He hands it to me. I take out Joe's letter.

Just seeing my name written in Joe's messy handwriting makes me smile.

I have a small piece of Joe left.

"By the way, I made an appointment with Dr. Welch for Monday," Sam says.

I dragged Joe to Dr. Welch after Iola died for grief counseling. Now Sam is returning the favor. No way can I talk to anyone about what I'm feeling.

"Dad?" I whisper.

"No word," Sam says. "But I know he won't miss Joe's funeral."

I have to believe Dad will be back in time. Because now more than ever, I need Dad. I'm mad at him for pulling me out of the building, but I need him.

The doorbell rings. Sam goes downstairs to answer it.

I unfold Joe's letter.

_Frank, _

_When Iola died, there were so many things I wanted to tell her. And my chance was gone. I promised that would never happen to us. Bro, you need to know this wasn't your fault._

_Yeah, I know how your mind works. You've got a million reasons to blame yourself. You are replaying everything in your head and figuring what you could have done differently._

_I know cuz I did the same thing when Iola died. Almost drove myself crazy. I'm asking you not to do that, for me. _

Can I do that for Joe? I doubt it. All I've done is replay Joe's death in my mind. What I could have done differently. I swallow hard and keep reading.

_Sometimes we have to make split second decisions. You let it go because you did the best you could. And Frank, you did the best you could. _

Joe doesn't know. I could have done more. Why didn't I leave him in the car? It's almost like I feel Joe dragging me back to the letter.

_Truth is, you already saved my life. When Iola died, I was in a dark place. I wouldn't have ended my life. But I did risky things. Things so risky I didn't know if I'd make it back alive. And you knew that._

I swallow hard remembering …

Desperate to get Joe out after Iola died, I made Joe choose a movie to see. He dragged me to some awful science fiction film. I've blocked out the name, but I do remember how a mugger grabbed a woman's purse.

Dad drilled into us to always have backup, but Joe took off after the mugger like a greyhound. I could barely keep them in sight. Joe chased him right up to Barmet Bay. The guy dropped the purse on the dock and dove into the bay…in November.

Joe dove in after the guy.

Jumping in the bay was suicide. The water was freezing. I figured Joe had less than five minutes before hypothermia set in. Joe swam to the perp, grabbed him under his arm and started swimming. I don't think the perp would have made it out of the water alive if Joe hadn't dove in after him. I stood on the dock until Joe swam close enough for me to grab the perp.

I dumped the perp on the dock. When I turned back, Joe was gone. I knew his arms and legs must have been too numb to keep swimming.

I dove in the water. But I couldn't find Joe. The waves were dragging me out to sea. One of the few times in my life I prayed. I promised God anything if He let me find Joe.

Five yards away I saw my unconscious brother.

With a prayer on my lips, I swam to him – fighting the waves and the current.

When I reached Joe, my arms and legs were numb. I could barely move them. We were dead in the water. But I wouldn't leave Joe behind. Even then I knew the pain of Joe dying would be unbearable.

Joe and I were sinking when I felt someone grab me. Con had commandeered a motorboat.

"Joe first," I muttered.

Con grabbed Joe. Then he pulled me onboard the boat.

"How did you find us?" I asked through chattering teeth.

"Someone called from the restaurant on the pier. They saw someone jump in the bay," Con said.

"Joe ok?" I asked.

"He's breathing on his own," Con said. He covered us with his coat.

Two ambulances met us at the dock.

"You went after him for a purse?" Con asked.

I didn't say anything. Too busy shivering.

One ambulance drove the perp to the hospital. Another ambulance drove Joe and me to the hospital.

At the hospital we got IVs of warm fluid and we were wrapped in electric blankets.

Joe had just regained consciousness when Dad arrived.

"Are you ok?" Dad asked.

I nodded. Joe was too groggy to respond.

"YOU JUMPED IN BARMET BAY FOR A MUGGER? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW STUPID THAT WAS?" Dad yelled.

"Excuse me, sir," a nurse said. "You'll have to be quiet or leave."

"I understand," Dad said.

"Who wants to explain this to me?" Dad asked.

"My fault," Joe said in a shaky voice.

Dad didn't say a thing. He just left the hospital room. But his disappointment spoke volumes.

We got released the next day. Sam dropped us off at my condo.

I had expected Dad to pick us up. And to tell Joe he needed to stop taking chances.

Since then Dad told me he was scared. Scared if he said anything to Joe, my brother would just disappear and we'd never see him again.

But then I didn't know why Dad had pulled a disappearing act. I was angry at Dad … angry at Joe …. angry at life.

I have Dad's temper …. Same as Joe….I just don't let it out much. That day it came out in full force.

When the condo front door shut, I grabbed Joe and slammed him against the wall.

"You want to explain jumping into the bay?" I asked through grit teeth.

"I didn't want the guy to get away," Joe said.

"Do you know how I felt when I couldn't find you in the water?" I whispered.

Joe looked away.

"I will have nightmares about that for years," I said.

"Sorry," Joe whispered.

"You are going to counseling," I said.

"Come on Frank, I made one bad call," Joe said.

"No. You've been making bad calls taking ever since Iola died," I said.

I had to call him on it. Scared if I didn't Joe would get himself killed.

Joe didn't say anything.

"Joe, we almost died," I whispered.

Joe turned pale.

"OK, I'll go," Joe whispered. "We don't have to work together…I'll take a break from the agency."

Exactly what I didn't want. Joe with time on his hands in his current state of mind was no good. What if he decided to just leave?

"No, all I want is for you to take fewer chances, deal?" I asked.

"Deal," Joe said.

I got Joe into counseling the next day.

POV JOE

Everything hurts. I'm covered with a blanket that smells like oil and gasoline. My body shakes beneath it.

"I get my money now or you don't leave this place alive," someone says.

I struggle to focus. A big guy is holding a knife on Griff. Griff is backed into a corner.

I can't get up. Too weak. But I roll myself into the big guy's feet. He lands on top of me. I yell as his knife cuts my hand.

Suddenly the big guy is gone.

I squint. A blurry Griff holds the big guy against the wall with the knife against his throat.

"You ever come back here, I'll kill you," Griff says.

The big guy leaves.

Griff is on his knees next to me. He wraps my bleeding hand in a towel.

"I owe you one," Griff says.

"Brothers," I whisper before darkness takes over.

I see myself pushing a dark haired guy out a window. Did I kill someone?

Chapter 19

Dedicated to God and Fluffykitty12

POV Frank

I am surrounded by fire. I lie on the wooden floor…too weak to move. The flames are inches away. I feel their heat. I close my eyes. I am going to burn to death.

Someone drags me to my feet. Joe. He struggles to pull me to the window.

Through the smoke, Joe leans me and him against the wall.

"I'll see you in five," Joe says.

I try to grab Joe … to make him jump with me. But I miss.

I land in a life net. The building explodes. Joe is dead.

"NO!" I shout.

"Easy Frank, it's just a dream," Sam says.

But the truth is, my nightmare happened. Joe died saving my life.

I open my eyes. Sam sits by my bed typing on his computer.

"Do you want to read Joe's obituary?" Sam asks. He hands me his computer.

Joseph Paul Hardy, 26, died suddenly last night. He is survived by an older brother (Frank), and his father (Fenton).

He earned a bachelor's degree in criminal justice from New York University. Joseph was the team captain of the college basketball team. He enjoyed sports, outdoors, his family and living life to the fullest.

I swallow hard and hand the computer back to Sam.

The truth is no way can Joe be reduced to a few paragraphs. It's as impossible as living without Joe.

"Any ideas for memorials?" Sam asks. "I don't think Joe would want flowers."

"Iola Morton Scholarship Fund or the Youth At Risk Mentoring Program," I whisper.

"Thanks," Sam says. "I've got coffee and Tylenol for you. What do you want for breakfast?"

I close my eyes. I don't have the energy. Sam is back in five minutes with a breakfast tray.

"Tell you what, you eat something and take the Tylenol," Sam says. "And I'll tell you something you don't know about Joe."

Curious, I swallow the pills with some water. I force myself to take a bite of toast.

"You and your dad were out of town working on the Petersen case," Sam says.

I nod. A kidnapping. We rescued the Thomas, the 16-year-old victim. His kidnappers were his teacher and his uncle. Both are serving are a long prison term.

"I knew something weird was going on when Joe knocked on my door," Sam says.

I understand. Joe never knocked. He was always too excited to knock. Joe's habit drove Dad crazy. But Dad never broke Joe of barging into offices. Once Joe caught me kissing Callie – before we broke up. Joe turned red and promised he'd knock next time. He didn't.

I force myself to take another bite of toast.

"Anyway he knocked," Sam says. "And he shut the door behind him and sat down."

I smile. Joe never sat or rested anywhere. He was in constant motion. Foot tapping, finger pounding motion. Joe was only still when he slept. Usually he paced in the office. Or he would sit on the corner of my desk, but never a chair. Joe had too much energy.

"He wasn't acting like Joe. Then he slid an envelope across my desk," Sam says.

Sam swallows hard and closes his eyes.

I wait wondering what happened. Usually Sam is pretty stoic, but whatever Joe did shook Sam up.

"He said, "When something happens to me, give this to Frank,'" Sam whispers. "Then he left. I put the letter in my wallet and tried to forget about it."

I swallow hard. After Iola died I was terrified Joe would give up. That I'd got a call one night that Joe was dead.

"Do you have the letter?" Sam asks.

"Wallet," I whisper.

Sam grabs my wallet off my dresser. He hands it to me. I take out Joe's letter.

Just seeing my name written in Joe's messy handwriting makes me smile.

I have a small piece of Joe left.

"By the way, I made an appointment with Dr. Welch for Monday," Sam says.

I dragged Joe to Dr. Welch after Iola died for grief counseling. Now Sam is returning the favor. No way can I talk to anyone about what I'm feeling.

"Dad?" I whisper.

"No word," Sam says. "But I know he won't miss Joe's funeral."

I have to believe Dad will be back in time. Because now more than ever, I need Dad. I'm mad at him for pulling me out of the building, but I need him.

The doorbell rings. Sam goes downstairs to answer it.

I unfold Joe's letter.

_Frank, _

_When Iola died, there were so many things I wanted to tell her. And my chance was gone. I promised that would never happen to us. Bro, you need to know this wasn't your fault._

_Yeah, I know how your mind works. You've got a million reasons to blame yourself. You are replaying everything in your head and figuring what you could have done differently._

_I know cuz I did the same thing when Iola died. Almost drove myself crazy. I'm asking you not to do that, for me. _

Can I do that for Joe? I doubt it. All I've done is replay Joe's death in my mind. What I could have done differently. I swallow hard and keep reading.

_Sometimes we have to make split second decisions. You let it go because you did the best you could. And Frank, you did the best you could. _

Joe doesn't know. I could have done more. Why didn't I leave him in the car? It's almost like I feel Joe dragging me back to the letter.

_Truth is, you already saved my life. When Iola died, I was in a dark place. I wouldn't have ended my life. But I did risky things. Things so risky I didn't know if I'd make it back alive. And you knew that._

I swallow hard remembering …

Desperate to get Joe out after Iola died, I made Joe choose a movie to see. He dragged me to some awful science fiction film. I've blocked out the name, but I do remember how a mugger grabbed a woman's purse.

Dad drilled into us to always have backup, but Joe took off after the mugger like a greyhound. I could barely keep them in sight. Joe chased him right up to Barmet Bay. The guy dropped the purse on the dock and dove into the bay…in November.

Joe dove in after the guy.

Jumping in the bay was suicide. The water was freezing. I figured Joe had less than five minutes before hypothermia set in. Joe swam to the perp, grabbed him under his arm and started swimming. I don't think the perp would have made it out of the water alive if Joe hadn't dove in after him. I stood on the dock until Joe swam close enough for me to grab the perp.

I dumped the perp on the dock. When I turned back, Joe was gone. I knew his arms and legs must have been too numb to keep swimming.

I dove in the water. But I couldn't find Joe. The waves were dragging me out to sea. One of the few times in my life I prayed. I promised God anything if He let me find Joe.

Five yards away I saw my unconscious brother.

With a prayer on my lips, I swam to him – fighting the waves and the current.

When I reached Joe, my arms and legs were numb. I could barely move them. We were dead in the water. But I wouldn't leave Joe behind. Even then I knew the pain of Joe dying would be unbearable.

Joe and I were sinking when I felt someone grab me. Con had commandeered a motorboat.

"Joe first," I muttered.

Con grabbed Joe. Then he pulled me onboard the boat.

"How did you find us?" I asked through chattering teeth.

"Someone called from the restaurant on the pier. They saw someone jump in the bay," Con said.

"Joe ok?" I asked.

"He's breathing on his own," Con said. He covered us with his coat.

Two ambulances met us at the dock.

"You went after him for a purse?" Con asked.

I didn't say anything. Too busy shivering.

One ambulance drove the perp to the hospital. Another ambulance drove Joe and me to the hospital.

At the hospital we got IVs of warm fluid and we were wrapped in electric blankets.

Joe had just regained consciousness when Dad arrived.

"Are you ok?" Dad asked.

I nodded. Joe was too groggy to respond.

"YOU JUMPED IN BARMET BAY FOR A MUGGER? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW STUPID THAT WAS?" Dad yelled.

"Excuse me, sir," a nurse said. "You'll have to be quiet or leave."

"I understand," Dad said.

"Who wants to explain this to me?" Dad asked.

"My fault," Joe said in a shaky voice.

Dad didn't say a thing. He just left the hospital room. But his disappointment spoke volumes.

We got released the next day. Sam dropped us off at my condo.

I had expected Dad to pick us up. And to tell Joe he needed to stop taking chances.

Since then Dad told me he was scared. Scared if he said anything to Joe, my brother would just disappear and we'd never see him again.

But then I didn't know why Dad had pulled a disappearing act. I was angry at Dad … angry at Joe …. angry at life.

I have Dad's temper …. Same as Joe….I just don't let it out much. That day it came out in full force.

When the condo front door shut, I grabbed Joe and slammed him against the wall.

"You want to explain jumping into the bay?" I asked through grit teeth.

"I didn't want the guy to get away," Joe said.

"Do you know how I felt when I couldn't find you in the water?" I whispered.

Joe looked away.

"I will have nightmares about that for years," I said.

"Sorry," Joe whispered.

"You are going to counseling," I said.

"Come on Frank, I made one bad call," Joe said.

"No. You've been making bad calls taking ever since Iola died," I said.

I had to call him on it. Scared if I didn't Joe would get himself killed.

Joe didn't say anything.

"Joe, we almost died," I whispered.

Joe turned pale.

"OK, I'll go," Joe whispered. "We don't have to work together…I'll take a break from the agency."

Exactly what I didn't want. Joe with time on his hands in his current state of mind was no good. What if he decided to just leave?

"No, all I want is for you to take fewer chances, deal?" I asked.

"Deal," Joe said.

I got Joe into counseling the next day.

POV JOE

Everything hurts. I'm covered with a blanket that smells like oil and gasoline. My body shakes beneath it.

"I get my money now or you don't leave this place alive," someone says.

I struggle to focus. A big guy is holding a knife on Griff. Griff is backed into a corner.

I can't get up. Too weak. But I roll myself into the big guy's feet. He lands on top of me. I yell as his knife cuts my hand.

Suddenly the big guy is gone.

I squint. A blurry Griff holds the big guy against the wall with the knife against his throat.

"You ever come back here, I'll kill you," Griff says.

The big guy leaves.

Griff is on his knees next to me. He wraps my bleeding hand in a towel.

"I owe you one," Griff says.

"Brothers," I whisper before darkness takes over.

I see myself pushing a dark haired guy out a window. Did I kill someone?


	20. At Death's Door

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark.

Chapter 20

Dedicated to Fluffykitty12 and God

POV GRIF (the guy who found Joe)

"You're crazy," I say as I wrap the blonde's bloody hand in a rag. "He could have killed you."

The blonde is barely conscious.

Who saves your life when you've only known them for a few hours? The blonde guy I found a few hours ago.

"Brothers?" the blonde whispers.

"Yeah," I lie.

"I killed somebody," the blonde whispers. "Some guy with dark hair. I shoved him out a window."

"Happens," I say.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispers and looks at me with one blue eye. The other eye is swollen shut.

I need to make something up … another lie … but my mind is blank.

"Later," I say. "Get some sleep."

I can tell he wants to ask more questions. But his body is a mess. His good eye slowly closes.

I owe him my life. Unfortunately, I also owe Ray "The Enforcer" $3,000. No idea where I'll get that kind of money. Last time I bet on a sure thing with the horses.

My body starts to shake. A sharp pain stabs my stomach. I need a drink. Just something to tide me over. I'm out of money, but I've got the blonde's watch.

I make sure nobody is following me. If Ray's people catch me, they will slit my throat. Nobody owes "The Enforcer" money and lives to tell about it.

The neon, flickering PAWN SHOP sign draws me in.

Vito always buys, but he gives rock bottom prices. He never asks where I get anything. Which is good since the stuff I pawn is usually stolen.

"What you got?" Vito asks.

I pull out the gold watch. In the light of the shop, I notice the watch looks expensive.

I slide the watch over to Vito.

He picks it up and puts it under his magnifying glass. I hide my shaking hands in my pockets. I need a drink….now.

"It's got an inscription on the back," Vito says. "To Joe, Partner – Friend – Brother – Frank."

"I found it in the park. Give me $250?" I say.

"No way. Do you know how hard it is to move jewelry that's inscribed? I've got to find someone named Frank who wants to buy this for a guy named Joe. I'll give you $20. Take it or leave it," Vito says.

"I'll take it," I say.

My hands shake as I grab the money off the counter.

I go out the back door of the pawn shop. In the alley, I go in the back door of a small, run down grocery store. I buy a three bottles of cheap wine. I go in the alley and open a bottle. I drink half of the bottle and wait. Impossible to walk when my body won't stop trembling. Slowly my body stops shaking.

I peek out the alley to make sure no one is around. On my way back, I grab a newspaper off the bench at the bus stop. Then I head back.

The blonde is asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I pull out the newspaper and open another bottle of wine.

HARDY KILLED IN FIRE

The picture in the newspaper matches the guy inches away.

Joe Hardy. Son of Fenton Hardy – the detective.

Everybody knows Fenton Hardy sent "The Enforcer" to prison for ten years. He got out last year.

I dial my cell phone.

"Yeah, it's Grif. Let me talk to the Enforcer," I say.

"You got my money or do I need to slit your throat?" The Enforcer asks.

"I got something better than money. Meet me at the abandoned boathouse," I say.

The kid is in bad shape. I doubt he'll be conscious for the beating the Enforcer has planned.

I take another swig of wine and wait.

POV Frank

Joe's funeral starts in twenty minutes. Dad is MIA. I am alone. I've felt alone ever since Joe died.

I open Joe's Bible. He underlined "in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good." Psalm 52:9

Hope is in short supply. I read Joe's messy writing.

_Are You real? Will you tell Iola I love her? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Will I see her again?_

Joe had doubts. Just like me. I want to believe, but I can't. I need proof.

Sam drives me to the church. In the cemetery, I small white canopy is set up. Sam and I sit in two folding chairs in the front row. Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil sit by me.

While the priest conducts the service, I tell myself this is just a nightmare. I'll wake up and Joe will be alive. This can't be the end.

The priest stops talking. He nods at Sam. Sam goes up and drops a handful of dirt on the coffin. I stay in my seat. No way can I do that. Sam puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to his brown sedan.

I sit in the passenger seat wishing I were dead.

POV JOE

I hurt all over. My head pounds. My hand throbs. Who am I? Why did I push someone out a window? Who was he? Why do I keep having nightmares about it?

I look around.

Someone breaks open the wooden door of the boathouse.

I'm grabbed by strong arms and dragged to my feet. The room spins.

"Grif, you got something for me," a muscular white man in a leather coat asks.

"Yeah, he's Fenton Hardy's kid," Grif says.

What? Who is Fenton Hardy?

The man pulls my head back by my hair.

"Yeah, you're what I've been waiting for ever since your old man sent me to prison," he says.

He punches me in the stomach. My knees give out. I'd be in a puddle on the floor, but two guys hold me up. I throw up on the cement floor.

"Get him in the car," the man says as my world goes dark


	21. Finding Joe

Chapter 21

Happy early birthday Hobbitelf. God loves you.

Dedicated to God and Fluffykitty12

POV JOE

I am dragged out of the car and shoved down into a basement. Who is Fenton Hardy? Is he my dad? Why don't I remember anything?

I fall on the dirty, cement floor. Before I can get up, someone kicks me. I can't breathe. Someone flips me over and puts their shoe on my neck.

"I always knew I'd get back at Fenton for putting me away," the Enforcer says. "He owes me 10 years. Guess I'll take it out of your hide."

I can't breathe. Desperate to take a breath, I kick up and nail the Enforcer right where it hurts the most.

How did I know how to do that? It looked like a Tae Kwon Do or karate move?

The Enforcer falls to the floor. I scoot over into a corner and draw in a long breath.

"Boss, you ok?" someone asks.

"Make him pay," the Enforcer whispers.

Five guys surround me. I try to stand, but my left leg won't support me. I fall to the floor. Two guys grab my arms. They force me to my feet.

They hold me up, while the other three guys take turns punching me. I fade into darkness.

POV Frank

I just buried Joe. I feel empty and alone. Sam drove me

Back to my condo. I have no idea how I will survive without

Joe.

"I'll make some coffee," Sam says and goes into the kitchen.

My cell phone rings. I answer because I need something to take my mind off the pain of losing Joe.

"Hardy," I growl.

"Frank, would you like to see your brother?" someone asks.

"Who is this?" I ask.

"Let's just say I'm a friend of your Dad's."

"If you want to see Joe, walk out your front door. Get into the black car. Stay on the phone."

"I don't believe you," I say as I walk out the front door.

"You don't have to. But isn't Joe worth taking the chance? He's hurt. He needs you."

Two men get out of the back seat of the black car. One shoves me inside the car. The other puts a black hood over my face.

As the car pulls away from the curb, I realize instead of suicide by cop, I've committed suicide by criminal.

Joe is dead. I'll be dead within the hour, but I don't care. Will Dad make it home for my funeral?

POV JOE

Pain. Everything hurts. I am thrown into a cell.

"Say your prayers. We'll be back," a man says.

He locks the cell door. Getting to my feet is useless, my

Left leg won't support me. I put my arm back and pull

Myself into the corner of the cell. The man didn't say

He'd kill me. He just said he'd be back. He promised

Me more pain. I'm in a nightmare I can't escape.

I look at the blood trail I left pushing myself into

The corner.

I'm scared. I close my eyes.

_God, help. Please send somebody to help me._

POV Frank

I'm dragged down stairs. With the hood over my eyes, I'm blind.

"Boss, we got him," someone says.

"Take him to the cell."

I'm shoved forward. Someone pulls the hood off my

Face. I blink and try to get my bearings. I can't see anything

Until my eyes adjust to the light.

"Welcome, Frank. I'm glad you decided to join us. I'm the Enforcer. Your dad sent me away for 10 years. We have a lot

To talk about," the man says as he cracks his knuckles.

I don't care if I live or die. Actually, I do care. I want to die. That's why I'm here.

"Get the other one," The Enforcer says.

Two of his thugs try to walk past me. I turn around and see

Joe. He's bleeding and propped up in a corner, but it's my brother.

I flip the first man into the opposing wall. I shove the second

Man head first into a wall. He slides down – unconscious.

"Nobody touches him," I say.

"I'm in charge here," The Enforcer says.

"And you want to make us suffer, right? Ten years of suffering. You want it to be long and drawn out. He can't

Take much more," I say in a voice that sounds detached.

The Enforcer looks at Joe.

"I don't need both of you. I kill him and put him somewhere he'll be found," The Enforcer says. "I'll kill you later."

How can I keep Joe alive?

"Dad has a lot of enemies. You could make millions – no billions – if you sold us," I say.

"But I want revenge," The Enforcer says.

"You could have billions and revenge," I say. "Whoever buys us won't treat us well."

"I need to think," The Enforcer says. "Keep an eye on them."

He leaves with two of his bodyguards.

A man carries the unconscious thug out of the cell.

"I need water and first aid supplies," I say.

"Not giving you anything," a thug says.

"Your funeral. If he's dead when your boss gets back, I'll tell him it was your fault," I say as I step back closer to Joe.

The thugs leave. I turn around and kneel down.

"Joe?" I whisper.

I brush his hair off his bloody forehead.

One eye is swollen shut. His left leg is bleeding. He has bruises on his chest, but he's never looked better to me.

I put my hand on his shoulder. Joe pushes himself away.

"Joe?" I whisper.

"Who are you?" he asks.

POV JOE

Who is this guy?

My body is one ball of pain. I push myself further into

The corner. My body starts to shake. I am not going into

Shock. Not going into shock.

"Easy," he says. "What's the last thing you remember?"

I don't know why, but his voice calms me.

"I killed you," I whisper. "Pushed you out of a window."

"You saved my life. We were trapped in a fire. You pushed

Me out the window into a life net. The building exploded. I thought you were dead," he says.

"Why don't I remember?" I ask.

"Like I said, a building exploded. Take it easy," he says.

"Who are you?" I whisper, trying not to lose consciousness.

"I'm your brother, Frank."

"Griff said he was my brother," I whisper. "How many brothers do I have."

"One. Me."

"Here's some supplies. If he dies before the boss comes back, you keep your mouth shut," the thug says as he

Pushes bottled water, a towel and a first aid kit through the cell doors.

I focus my one eye on Frank. He grabs the supplies.

He opens a bottle of water, puts it on a towel and dabs my forehead.

"I don't remember anything," I whisper.

I start to hyperventilate.

"You don't have to remember. I'm here. Breathe slowly," Frank says.

"Why did you tell him to sell us?" I whisper.

"I needed him to leave us alone. So I gave him something to

Think about," Frank says.

"Who would buy us?" I whisper.

"Anybody our dad has sent to prison," Frank says.

"Is he a judge?" I ask.

"No, a private detective. Where does it hurt?" he asks.

"All over. Scared if I go to sleep, you'll be gone when I wake up. Just a dream," I whisper.

"No way. Tell you what, you sleep and I'll keep talking. That way you know I'm still here."

I don't know why but Frank's voice comforts me.

"You sure we're brothers?" I whisper.

"Yes. You got that scar on your left arm when you saved me from a bully in first grade," Frank says.

I stare at small scar I hadn't noticed on my arm.

"You're not a dream?" I whisper.

"No," he says and squeezes my shoulder. "Now let tell

You how you saved me in first grade. You bit this kid who

Had been torturing me all year. He told me if I told anybody

About it, he'd burn down our house. When you saw he had me down on the ground, you hit him in the family jewels. He scratched your arm when you bit him."

I want to hear more, but my good eye is drifting shut. I can't stay awake.

_Please God, don't let him be a dream. Let him be here when I wake up._


	22. A Target on Your Back

Chapter 22

_Thanks for telling me to keep going. Means a lot. Thanks God for the people who read and those who write back. _

POV Frank

Gunfire wakes me.

A man smiles outside our cell. He holds a gun through the cell bars.

I feel Joe tense next to me. His breaths are fast and shallow. I put my arm around Joe's shoulders and feel him relax. Have to remember Joe's memory is gone. This is new to him.

I look up into cold, brown eyes. The man holding the gun has killed before and enjoyed it. A large shark tattoo on his neck puzzles me. Why would a killer have a way his victims and the police could identify him? Then I realize his victims don't live long enough to call the police.

Shark aims the gun at my chest. I don't move.

He can't shoot me. His boss wants us alive…for now.

Shark moves his aim to Joe. Instinct takes over. I push Joe behind me, blocking Shark's shot.

Shark smiles.

He knows my weakness. I just put a target on Joe's back.

"Hope he doesn't have a bad accident," Shark says. He walks away smiling.

POV Joe

Shark points his gun at Frank.

I stare in disbelief as Frank stares the guy down.

My maybe brother is one tough guy.

Shark smiles and points his gun at me. I swallow hard. I'm dead.

Frank shoves me behind him. I hit my injured left leg and bite my lip to keep from screaming.

"Hope he doesn't have a bad accident," Shark says.

When he leaves, I relax.

"Stupid," Frank mutters, as he looks at my bleeding left leg.

"Sorry," I whisper.

"Not you," Frank says, as he tears a blanket into strips. "Me. I was stupid."

"You were stupid to save me from getting shot?" I ask.

"No. I was stupid to show I cared," Frank says. He ties the blanket strips around my bleeding leg. "I just put a big target on your back."

"You were gonna take a bullet for me," I say.

"Shark can't shoot us. His boss wants us alive. He tested us and I failed," Frank says.

"Don't beat yourself up. My last brother sold me to the Enforcer."

"He's not your brother!" Frank shouts. "You have one brother! Me!"

First time I've seen him lose his cool. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath.

"Look, I messed up. After your funeral, I got a phone call. If I wanted to see you again, I had to stay on the phone and get into a waiting car," Frank says.

"So you messed up because you came here?" I ask.

"No! I figured you were dead. I'd get in the car and they'd kill me too," Frank whispers.

"So you messed up cuz you're alive?" I ask.

"No. No one knows where we are. Dad taught me better."

"Look, you were gonna take a bullet for me. That's worth a lot in my book."

"You don't understand. He's going after you to get at me."

"You don't understand. I think you're my brother."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

POV Frank

"Still messed up. Guess your funeral took more out of me than I thought."

I close my eyes and swallow hard. I replay the worst moment of my life. I see the building explode. Joe is trapped inside. I can't get to him. My own private hell.

"But I'm here," Joe says. He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"We're about to be auctioned off to Dad's enemies," I say and run my hand through my hair.

"Bet I go for more than you," Joe says smiling.

"We're about to be auctioned off to Dad's enemies, tortured and killed. You're focusing on who will go for more money?" I ask.

"You're a glass half empty kind of guy. So did a lot of people come to my funeral?" Joe asks.

Incredible. Like having Joe with his memory back.

"No. We hired people to fill the seats. You realize we have no plan."

"K," Joe says.

I'm freaking out. Joe looks relaxed.

The Enforcer and four armed thugs enter the cell. Standing up, I put myself between Joe and them.

"Call your father and your brother lives," the Enforcer says.

"Throw in a pizza and you've got a deal," Joe says.

"Shut up," I say through grit teeth.

"Extra cheese," Joe says.

"The GPS has been disabled. No one can trace your location," the Enforcer says, as one of his thugs hands me a cell phone.

"Dad's working on a case. I don't know where he is."

"Do your best. Pretend your brother's life depends on it."

I punch in dad's cell phone number.

"Put it on speaker," the Enforcer says.

I hit speaker. The phone rings once, twice, three times. No answer.

The phone rings two more times.

I hear a click.

"Hardy. Leave a message."

I got Dad's voice mail. This isn't happening.

"Too bad," The Enforcer says.

Three of his thugs tackle me. I fall to my knees. I hear a gun shot. Joe!

"No!" I scream.

Someone throws me into the cell wall. My world fades to black.

POV Frank – 30 minutes later

My head pounds. I touch my forehead. My hand comes back bloody.

A bloody cell phone sits a few inches away.

Joe is dead. The Enforcer said he'll kill Joe if I didn't reach Dad. I killed Joe.

Why didn't I tell Sam where I was going? Instead of committing suicide by criminal, I killed Joe instead. Just like Tony on my DEA case.

A page from Joe's devotional lies in the corner. Bloodstained, I see a verse Joe had highlighted. "But as for me, I will always have hope…" Psalm 71:14

I crumple the page and throw it. My hope is gone. God can't fix this.

POV JOE Three Hours Later

I wake up alone in a cell. My body feels like a train wreck. My heart races. Where am I? Who am I?

Ragged blanket strips wrapped around my leg catch my eye.

Frank? Was he real?

One way to find out.

"Hey, you forgot the pizza!" I shout.

"Joe!"

I have a brother. Frank. He tried to take a bullet for me. For a minute, I can't speak.

"Joe! You ok?" Frank shouts.

"Yeah. You got pizza?" I yell.

"No, I've got an annoying brother."

I smile.

POV Frank

Joe is alive.

I just have to get him us out of here before we're sold to the highest bidder.

"Time for an accident," Shark says as he walks by my cell.

I've got to keep him away from Joe.

"What's the matter? Afraid you can't handle me?" I ask.

Shark smiles and walks away.

· Jesus Calling – Enjoying Peace in His Presence

By Sarah Young, Devo for May 29, pg. 156


	23. The Cost of Brotherhood

Chapter 23

_Thanks to God and Fluffykitty12_

_Things have been kind of scary lately. Here's one of my new favorite verses: I am your God – let nothing terrify you. Isaiah 41:10_

POV Joe

Shark unlocks my cell door. He smiles and walks inside.

I push myself into a corner with my good leg.

"One sound, I kill your brother," Shark says. "Understand?"

I nod.

"Good," Shark says.

He kicks me hard in the stomach.

Pain shoots through me.

I struggle to keep quiet.

Shark smiles.

He kicks me where the bruises won't show - my stomach, back, arms and legs.

The pain takes my breath away. I struggle to keep my screams quiet.

Shark grabs my hair, pulls me to my feet, and throws me into the cell wall.

I feel warm blood run down my face.

"Anybody asks, you fell. You don't convince them, your brother dies. Understand?" Shark asks.

I give a weak nod as the room spins.

POV Frank

"Brought you something," Snake says.

A bloody Joe leans against the wall as Snake unlocks my cell.

Shark pushes Joe into the cell. I catch Joe before he hits the cement floor.

"You'll pay for this," I say.

"He fell," Shark says. "Ask him."

"Boss is coming," another thug says.

Joe struggles to his feet and wipes his sleeve across the bloody cut on his forehead.

"No one touches them without my permission," the Enforcer says.

"Sorry, sir. He fell," Shark says.

"Liar. You did this to him," I say.

"I'm not stupid. No one crosses the Enforcer and lives," Shark says.

"What happened?" the Enforcer asks Joe.

"I fell," Joe says.

He won't look at me.

"Did you hear anything?" the Enforcer asks his other thugs.

"No, sir," the tallest thug says.

"He has another accident on your watch, you'll die a slow and painful death," the Enforcer says.

"Yes, sir," Shark says.

"Call your father," the Enforcer says and hands me a disposable cell phone.

I can't risk calling Dad again. Joe's life hangs in the balance.

I dial Sam's number and pray.

"Put it on speaker," The Enforcer says.

I press the speaker button and hold my breath.

"Rad….."

I interrupt him.

"Dad, it's Frank."

"Frank, are you ok? I've been looking for you for hours," Radley says.

I cringe and feel guilty.

"Joe is alive. The Enforcer kidnapped us," I say.

"You sent me to prison for 15 years," the Enforcer says. "I am selling your sons to the highest bidder. You will never see them alive again."

The Enforcer ends the call.

"Rest. Whoever buys you, has unpleasant plans," the Enforcer says.

He and his thugs leave. Shark gives me a cold smile nobody else can see, as he walks away.

I can't control my frustration and anger.

Grabbing Joe, I shake him.

"Why did you cover for him?" I say in a cold voice.

"My business," Joe says.

"My job is to keep you alive," I say, through grit teeth. "You just made that impossible. I want an explanation."

"Shark said he'd kill you," Joe whispers.

Shocked, I release my hold on Joe.

"Couldn't risk it," Joe says. "Only found out I have a brother a few hours ago. My job to keep you alive."

Joe's arm goes around his stomach.

I have a bad feeling.

"Let me see," I say.

"I'm good," Joe says.

Ignoring him, I pull up his t-shirt.

Purple bruises cover his stomach and back. No idea how to fix this. What if he's bleeding internally? What if he dies saving my life?

Grabbing a water bottle, I clean the cut on his forehead.

Joe sits propped up by the cell wall. I put my arm around him, trying to keep him warm. I feel him relax.

"Today was good," Joe says.

"You must have a concussion. Today wasn't good. Shark almost killed you," I say and check Joe's eyes to see if his pupils are dilated.

"I don't have a head injury," Joe says. "The good part was finding out you are my brother. And we're together."

Joe closes his eyes and falls asleep. His head rests on my shoulder.

I can't protect him from Shark. Can't get him out of here. Can't do anything. And Joe is still glad I'm his brother.

Joe amazes me.

_"__Give thanks in all circumstances…" Thessalonians 5:18 Y" _

Chapter 23

_Thanks to God and Fluffykitty12_

_Things have been kind of scary lately. Here's one of my new favorite verses: I am your God – let nothing terrify you. Isaiah 41:10_

POV Joe

Shark unlocks my cell door. He smiles and walks inside.

I push myself into a corner with my good leg.

"One sound, I kill your brother," Shark says. "Understand?"

I nod.

"Good," Shark says.

He kicks me hard in the stomach.

Pain shoots through me.

I struggle to keep quiet.

Shark smiles.

He kicks me where the bruises won't show - my stomach, back, arms and legs.

The pain takes my breath away. I struggle to keep my screams quiet.

Shark grabs my hair, pulls me to my feet, and throws me into the cell wall.

I feel warm blood run down my face.

"Anybody asks, you fell. You don't convince them, your brother dies. Understand?" Shark asks.

I give a weak nod as the room spins.

POV Frank

"Brought you something," Snake says.

A bloody Joe leans against the wall as Snake unlocks my cell.

Shark pushes Joe into the cell. I catch Joe before he hits the cement floor.

"You'll pay for this," I say.

"He fell," Shark says. "Ask him."

"Boss is coming," another thug says.

Joe struggles to his feet and wipes his sleeve across the bloody cut on his forehead.

"No one touches them without my permission," the Enforcer says.

"Sorry, sir. He fell," Shark says.

"Liar. You did this to him," I say.

"I'm not stupid. No one crosses the Enforcer and lives," Shark says.

"What happened?" the Enforcer asks Joe.

"I fell," Joe says.

He won't look at me.

"Did you hear anything?" the Enforcer asks his other thugs.

"No, sir," the tallest thug says.

"He has another accident on your watch, you'll die a slow and painful death," the Enforcer says.

"Yes, sir," Shark says.

"Call your father," the Enforcer says and hands me a disposable cell phone.

I can't risk calling Dad again. Joe's life hangs in the balance.

I dial Sam's number and pray.

"Put it on speaker," The Enforcer says.

I press the speaker button and hold my breath.

"Rad….."

I interrupt him.

"Dad, it's Frank."

"Frank, are you ok? I've been looking for you for hours," Radley says.

I cringe and feel guilty.

"Joe is alive. The Enforcer kidnapped us," I say.

"You sent me to prison for 15 years," the Enforcer says. "I am selling your sons to the highest bidder. You will never see them alive again."

The Enforcer ends the call.

"Rest. Whoever buys you, has unpleasant plans," the Enforcer says.

He and his thugs leave. Shark gives me a cold smile nobody else can see, as he walks away.

I can't control my frustration and anger.

Grabbing Joe, I shake him.

"Why did you cover for him?" I say in a cold voice.

"My business," Joe says.

"My job is to keep you alive," I say, through grit teeth. "You just made that impossible. I want an explanation."

"Shark said he'd kill you," Joe whispers.

Shocked, I release my hold on Joe.

"Couldn't risk it," Joe says. "Only found out I have a brother a few hours ago. My job to keep you alive."

Joe's arm goes around his stomach.

I have a bad feeling.

"Let me see," I say.

"I'm good," Joe says.

Ignoring him, I pull up his t-shirt.

Purple bruises cover his stomach and back. No idea how to fix this. What if he's bleeding internally? What if he dies saving my life?

Grabbing a water bottle, I clean the cut on his forehead.

Joe sits propped up by the cell wall. I put my arm around him, trying to keep him warm. I feel him relax.

"Today was good," Joe says.

"You must have a concussion. Today wasn't good. Shark almost killed you," I say and check Joe's eyes to see if his pupils are dilated.

"I don't have a head injury," Joe says. "The good part was finding out you are my brother. And we're together."

Joe closes his eyes and falls asleep. His head rests on my shoulder.

I can't protect him from Shark. Can't get him out of here. Can't do anything. And Joe is still glad I'm his brother.

Joe amazes me.

_"__Give thanks in all circumstances…" Thessalonians 5:18 _


	24. Final Words

Chapter 24

Thanks to God/Abba for everything (including Fluffykitty). Have a new battle cry to fight my anxiety. "I am your God – let nothing terrify you." Isaiah 41:10

_Thanks for suggesting a summary before each story. Great idea._

_Summary: The Enforcer has captured Frank and Joe. Fenton sent The Enforcer to prison for 10 years. The Enforcer is auctioning off Frank and Joe to Fenton's worst enemies. _

_POV Frank_

Shark stops outside our cell.

I wrap my arm around Joe. He is asleep with his head on my shoulder.

"He took a real beating," Shark says. "Told him if he made one sound, I'd kill you."

Tightening my grip on Joe, I grit my teeth. I won't let Shark see my fury. Using all my self-control, I keep an expression of calm on my face.

"Time for another game," Shark says, as he unlocks our cell. "Wake him up."

"Forget it."

"Every second I wait, I take it out on him," Shark says.

"The only way you're getting him is over my cold, dead body."

I hear voices down the hall.

"Later," Shark says. He smiles, locks our cell door, and leaves.

The Enforcer and five thugs enter our cell.

I nudge Joe awake.

Only one way to protect Joe. And he's going to hate it.

I pull up Joe's dirty t-shirt. Large bruises cover his stomach.

"Shark did this," I say. "Is he calling the shots now?"

Joe glares at me and pushes his t-shirt down.

The Enforcer's hands clench into fists. Maybe I went too far. But making Shark a target was the only way to keep Joe safe.

Three thugs grab me.

Two thugs grab Joe.

"No one lies to me and lives," the Enforcer says. He holds a knife to Joe's throat.

_God give me the right words._

"You're mad at the wrong person," I say. "Shark threatened to kill me if Joe told the truth. Shark disrespected you. He undercut your authority. He's the one you need to make an example of…"

"Find Shark," The Enforcer, says to his thugs. "I want him alive."

The thugs run down the corridor hunting Shark. The Enforcer walks out and locks our cell door.

"You'll be sold in 20 minutes" he says.

"We stay together," I growl.

"Only if the price is right," the Enforcer says. "Eighteen minutes."

He walks away.

A memory fills my mind. Greene screaming at Joe on my front porch. Joe leaning against the railing for support, but refusing to back down. Me sprinting across the yard and putting myself between Greene and Joe. Seeing an orange kitten asleep on my deck chair. A small black kitten with its ribs sticking out arched his back and hissed. Bats took on the world to protect his brother. Even though he had no chance. I know how he felt.

"There's got to be a way out," I mutter.

"Got some good news," Joe says.

"You've got an escape plan?"

"No."

"You spotted a weakness we can use to escape?"

"Nope."

"What?"

"Think I got my memory back when Shark threw me into the wall."

"What do you mean 'you think you got your memory back?'"

"Did you pee on Santa's lap?" Joe asks.

"Yes," I say, through grit teeth. "You were scared of Santa. You begged me not to leave."

"You drenched him, right?" Joe says with a laugh.

"Is this important?"

"Yeah. I need to know it's a real memory. You're the only one who can verify it," Joe says, smiling.

"Fine."

"Santa left after you soaked him. Mrs. Claus filled in, but the kids in line weren't having it. They formed a mob. Took out Santa's chair, two Christmas trees, a wooden sleigh, and four elves."

"I liked you better without your memory."

"I don't think Santa liked you at all."

The Enforcer and his thugs stand in front of our cell.

"You will leave first," The Enforcer says and points to me. "You won't wear handcuffs or restraints. Obey me or your brother will pay."

I nod and walk out of the cell. What if we're auctioned off separately? Is this the last time I'll see Joe alive?

POV Joe

When Frank is out of sight, I close my eyes.

For the past two years, I've been on my own. When Callie left, Frank shut down.

I lost my brother and best friend. All I had left was my partner – because work was all that kept Frank going.

He was mentally and physically exhausted, but Frank insisted on working 24/7.

So I worked with Frank. Prayed I'd a good enough partner to keep him alive.

If Frank got hurt or injured – it would have destroyed me. Especially after Iola's death.

He came out of that dark place a year later, but it scared me. What if I trigger him? What if he ends up back there? What if he never comes back?

So I don't let Frank see the real me.

I haven't dated for the past two years.

Frank has no idea. I drop names. Like how I saw Ashley last night. She was the cashier who rang me out at WalMart. I saw her for a grand total of five minutes.

Lately, I've mentioned Ellen. Easier if just one name to remember. Frank wants to meet her.

Truth is Ellen is a waitress in her 60s with gray hair and six grandkids. She serves me supper every night at the diner.

What I don't tell Frank is not a day goes by that I don't think of Iola.

I've had lots of close calls. Been kidnapped, stabbed, and shot.

Thought I was bulletproof … until Iola died.

The car bomb didn't just kill Iola. It killed the best part of me.

Days I feel so empty it hurts to breathe.

So I bought the rundown beach cottage. The place I asked Iola to marry me. The place where she promised to spend her life with me.

After she died, I'd sneak to the cottage and sit on the deck. No matter how empty I felt inside, that deck gave me the power to make it through another day.

When the cottage was destroyed, so was the only place I could find Iola.

I know I won't end up in Heaven. I didn't save Iola. I don't deserve peace or forgiveness.

The day before she died, Iola gave me a gold necklace. The pendant on it reads _How Great is My Constant Love for You. Psalm 86:13_

Constant Love. I don't understand it. Not sure I believe in it.

Dad was gone a lot when I was a kid. Always traveling to solve cases. He is my hero. I want to be like him. But I don't feel constant love from him.

Working for him is hard.

"You're the weakest link in the agency, Joe. You don't have time to learn to be a detective and redo a house."

Dad apologized later, but I'll never forget. I never let down my mask around him.

After Iola died, Dad worked away for a long time. Felt like he left cuz I'd disappointed him by letting Iola die.

I still carry that guilt.

Every time he leaves, I feel like I've disappointed him somehow.

Sometimes I listen to Klove – the Christian radio station Iola loved. I close my eyes and pretend she is alive.

I try to believe in God. It's my only hope to see Iola again. To tell her I'm sorry. To beg her forgiveness.

Iola promised to love me. But that was before I flirted with another girl in front of her. Before she ran to our car to hide her anger and tears. Before she died from a car bomb meant to kill Dad.

I don't think she loves me anymore.

Frank got me through Iola's death. Guess that's constant love. But after Callie left, Frank disappeared into himself.

Felt like I'd made him angry.

I'm too scared to share anything with him. Can't risk triggering Frank. Somehow Callie leaving Frank, triggered my memories of losing Iola. But I won't put my needs over Frank's health. So I've kept everything bottled up for the last two years. And I'm tired of carrying it on my own.

"Your turn," The Enforcer says.

I walk down the hall ready to die. Feels like I've been slowly dying for the last seven years.

POV Frank

Walking into the room, I'm struck by how normal it looks. Twelve people sit around a long, wooden table. They wear expensive-looking dark business suits. Looks like an ordinary meeting, except for the ten Enforcer thugs holding guns.

When The Enforcer walks in with Joe, I breathe a sigh of relief.

I stand in front of Joe, offering the little protection I can.

"Fenton Hardy stole something from each of you," The Enforcer says. "He killed someone you loved or sent them to prison. He left you living on the run. Never knowing if today would be your last day outside a cell. He destroyed your lives. Now you have a chance to destroy his. Bidding opens at two million per son."

I can't protect Joe. Just like I didn't protect Tony.

I am trapped in my worst nightmare.

Desperately I scan the room looking for a way out. No vents. No air ducts. No windows. Ten armed thugs too spread out for me to disarm.

"Three million each."

"Ten million total."

I hear the voices, but inside I see myself shooting Tony. I see his eyes. I feel his sticky blood on my hands.

"Fifty million."

The silence in the room brings me back to the present.

A man with hard, gray eyes stares at us.

"Lars, you are prepared to transfer the money to my Swiss account?" The Enforcer asks.

Lars nods. He hits a few keys on his computer.

"Your deposit has gone into my account," The Enforcer says. "They belong to you."

Four thugs surround me and pull me away from Joe.

Lars glares at Joe.

"Your father raided my home. I escaped, but he captured my youngest son. He sent him to prison. I paid someone to break my son out of prison. The day before the mission, someone killed my son," Lars says. "You will pay for his death."

Lars nods. Someone puts a black hood over Joe's face. Someone else cuffs his hands behind his back.

Lars and his thugs walk us out to a black limousine. Lars pushes Joe to the ground. He kicks him in the stomach.

I try to help Joe, but Lars' thugs won't let me go.

"I'll take his place," I shout.

Lars looks at me with cold, steel gray eyes.

"You belong to me now. You don't have a brother. You will never see his face again."

And then the world explodes.

Notes

Klove is a real radio station. You can google it and listen for free on your computer. Fluffykitty likes Legacy by Memphis May Fire.

I like Toby Mac, Mandisa and a song called Prodigal. God Bless, Shepherd.


End file.
